


Waters Run Deep

by Vixx2pointOh



Series: Run to the Water [2]
Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1920s, Alternative Universe - No Arrow, Alternative Universe - No Island, Bring tissues, Complete, Daddy!Oliver, F/M, Fertility Issues, Ficlet Collection, Fluff and Smut, Happy Ending, I Love You, Olicity as Children, Omnipresent POV, olicity - Freeform, sequel of sorts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-06
Updated: 2017-08-07
Packaged: 2018-08-29 09:42:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 55,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8484535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vixx2pointOh/pseuds/Vixx2pointOh
Summary: Stories are like waters running deep and twisting routes through our lives, gathering up parts of our past and flowing in paths that will one day define us.These are their waters.  Their stories.  Their paths."Run to the Water" ficlets





	1. Introduction

 

 

 

Stories are like waters running deep and twisting routes through our lives, gathering up parts of our past and flowing in paths that will one day define us.

These are their waters. Their stories. Their paths.

This is **NOT** a sequel.  
This is a story composed of ficlets (each chapter) that will deal with certain times in their lives, it will (with the exception of flashbacks) be chronological.

I don’t know how many ficlets you will get, but let’s say there are about three or four pivotal ‘moments’ between July 1924 (where the main part of RTTW finished) and September 1930 (where the epilogue took from)

I guess I just wasn’t quite ready to let them go yet.

 

_Do you need to have read Run to the Water?_

Ummm, yes.  I spent 25 chapters building these characters and honestly I think you will miss some of the nuances in these stories if you haven't read RTTW.

 


	2. Forever, For Always

 

 

**7 November 1924**

Felicity stared at the white dress hanging from the closet door, she was nervous, stupidly nervous which caused her to pick at the polish that had been so carefully applied to her trimmed nails only a few hours before.

She spun the simple white gold band around her finger, the single princess-set diamond and the finger on which she wore it was all that showed it as an engagement ring to the outside world. It had been Oliver’s mother’s ring – the first and only ring that his father had ever bought her and Felicity could remember the day it became hers so vividly.

  
**Early September 1924**

Oliver cringed, the pain was excruciating and he would bite his lip to stop from calling out, for fear him doing so would make Felicity cry more than she was even now.

The burns had canvased most of his back, leaving twisted skin that ran like a mountain range across his body. He had spent a month or so in hospital having dead skin peeled off him layer by layer. They had asked him to stay longer but he couldn’t stand to sit idle any longer. Felicity had not left his side, she spent much of his recovery curled in a chair in the corner of the room, her eyes fixed on what the nurses were doing and her lips quivering over the sadness she felt. She had taken it all in, tirelessly learning how she could help him once he was cleared to leave.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, pressing a soft and lingered kiss to the round of his shoulder as she held the wet gauze against his healing skin.  
“One of these days I’m going to need you to stop saying that,” he smiled, his feet dipping into the softly lapping lake.

“I shouldn’t have said those things to Ray, I shouldn’t have made him so angry, I caused this,” she sniffed, the wind catching her soft blonde locks in the falling afternoon light.  
“Felicity, there ain’t nothing that can justify what Ray did, you have no part in this.”  
“But I see the pain you’re in Oliver and that’s my fault.”  
Her eyes tracked over the empty fields, landing on the distant black skeletal remains of the little red barn.  
“You lost everything you had.”  
“I didn’t lose you,” he replied, his hand capturing hers, “and in the end that’s all that matters.”

Felicity exhaled heavily between softly pouted lips before smoothing her lips against the back of his hand.

The truth was that she held much guilt over the decimation of the Ranch – her father’s last legacy – she had felt that it was her words, her callous and heated words, with Ray that had set off a chain reaction. She had wanted to hurt him, irrevocably and desperately, when she had told him about Oliver. She had thrown each word like a knife, knowing that to truly hurt Ray all she needed to do was destroy his pride.

She had lapped up the way his face had twisted over the knowledge that she and Oliver had made love under his very nose in the bedroom he had made her a prisoner of, in the house his parents owned. It had been more satisfying than she could ever admit, but that satisfaction had come at a cost that she wished she could now take back.

Oliver was now living with his parents, not far now from the small house Donna Smoak had bought with the insurance money received from Noah’s death. It was nothing special, quaint but perfectly acceptable. Felicity had been offered the Estate house, given it came out of the fire with little to no damage, only a slightly scorched façade. But the house was large, imposingly so, and Felicity had spent most of the one night she stayed there alone in tears, her mind a rush with nightmares she never spoke of and her heart heavy with the guilt she bore quietly. Since that night she had stayed with her mother, a few houses down from Oliver, safe in the comfort of a house that did not smell like burning embers.

The nightmares still came, filled with crackling noises and a deeply thick smell of ash. Her mother had always slept with earplugs, a carry over from the days her father would snore loudly in the bed next to her, so she had never heard the frantic cries Felicity would occasionally be unable to stifle.

She always thought that after what so many others had endured – Oliver with his deeply scarred back, her mother with the loss of her husband and the betrayal that she wore of his illegitimate child and young Bethany with her own physical and emotional scars – that Felicity’s own ‘restless’ nights, were of little importance.

Oliver had asked one particular morning as he watched her quietly turning the pages of a book in the early morning light. He could tell she wasn’t reading words, just turning pages, a drawn and jaunt look across her face.

“ _Felicity, you know whatever it is, you can tell me_ ”, he had said, without the need to even ask her what was wrong.  
_“It’s nothing,_ ” she had replied.  
“ _It wasn’t your fault_ ”  
Felicity had tried to cover the tears with a brush of her hand, but they had come too fast for her to stop them. It was as though he had read her mind and reluctantly she had told him about the guilt she felt and the nightmares that frequently cursed her nights.

She didn’t know why she kept them from him before then. She told herself then – perhaps in a sheer move to justify keeping it from him – that she would tell him once he had healed, but when his eyes tracked across hers, she could not keep it from him a minute longer.

He held her for hours, letting her cry in his arms before he pressed his lips to her forehead and whispered that every night she spent with him, he would watch over her till she fell asleep and hold her to keep her safe.

  
“Felicity, I didn’t lose you,” Oliver repeated, sensing her mind was lost to him for a few moments.  
She smiled thankfully.  
“You know the drill, this will hurt a little,” she whispered in his ear, folding her fingers into his – a gesture which had become something for Oliver to focus on as she pulled back the dressing on his right shoulder blade.

It was a particularly deep burn, destroying all three layers of the skin in parts. It would be cleaned – a task which was tortuously slow – a salve gently applied and then redressed.

She watched Oliver swallow heavily as he brought her hand up to his lips, squeezing his eyes closed and pressing his chin into his chest.

“We have buyers for almost all the plots,” Felicity spoke, knowing the task would always go smoother if Oliver could focus his mind elsewhere, “they will settle soon, which will give us enough money to build the new stables.”  
“Felicity, are you sure you want to do that still, put all that trust in me?” Oliver asked between clenched teeth over the biting pain coursing down his back.

“Of course, I trust you with everything,” she replied simply, the idea that she didn’t trust Oliver not even crossing her mind.  
“Unless you’ve changed your mind,” she added as she plucked out some dead skin, a sudden thought plunging into her brain that perhaps this wasn’t what Oliver wanted anymore.

Oliver twisted, moving his back away from where Felicity was carefully tending to it.  
“I’m not finished,” she quipped, the tweezers poised in her fingers.  
“That can wait,” Oliver remarked, breathing sharply as the cool air swept over the exposed burns.  
“The nurses warned me you were a terrible patient,” she smiled, pulling the glove from her hand.

“I haven’t changed my mind,” he spoke, his hand grazing against her soft, blushed cheek.  
“But,” she mouthed, sensing the word was coming.  
“But I need to do something first.”  
She breathed in, holding the breath between pursed lips, afraid of the words that soon might follow.

He didn’t take his eyes away from hers as he plunged his hand into his pocket, moments later pulling it out with a small box folded into his palm.  
“Felicity, you mean everything to me. You’re my light, the one that makes me better, the one that makes me _want_ to be better. I made you a promise that I would marry you, that I knew you were the one I was meant to spend the rest of my life with. This time I’m asking with a proper ring,” he breathed softly, pulling open the small black box where the white gold ring sat in a bed of black velvet.

“I know it ain’t much, it was mam and pa’s, but I swear I’ll buy you a million more just as soon as I can,”  
Felicity felt the tear slip from her eyes and the lump in her throat stopping all her words as her lips fell open. She breathed out between rounded lips and fluttering eyelashes.  
“Oliver, I,” she stammered, “of course, my answer hasn’t changed, and I’ve never needed any more than what you give me.”

He threaded the ring slowly onto her finger, his eyes dancing with a thousand happy lights before her lips fell onto his, warm and shaking. His tongue gently swept across the seam of her lips, basking in the soft remnants of happy tears that had been caught up there.

“So I guess all these years later,” she smiled nodding out to the rock where she had stood as a child, “you’re finally going to make me a lady.”

  
**7 November 1924**

Since that moment on the shoreline of the lake two months ago everything had happened so quickly. The Ranch had been divided and sold off. John had been offered a plot of land which he refused to take without payment and which Felicity refused to take any payment for. The other plot had been graciously signed over to Laurel, who did not intend to build on it, but accepted the token for what it was – a chance to fix what Noah could not.

Work had begun on the land that was left in Felicity’s name, despite his injury and Felicity begging that he slow down, Oliver had lay the foundation of the house he had promised to build her as well as directing the work to transform what was left into what it would become, Verdant Queen Ranch.

After tomorrow Felicity and Oliver would make their home together in a small farm cottage on a dairy farm a five minute horse’s ride from the Ranch.

 _After tomorrow._  
Felicity’s brows tugged inward as she thought about it.  
_Tomorrow_.

Felicity had absolutely known, without a moment’s reconsidering that she had made the right choice, there had never really being one to make. Her life – she knew – was destined to be a part of his. They were linked. They’re rivers, although separate, would run side by side in this life and likely the next.

Yet, she was still nervous, anxious even, about parts of her that she had somewhat kept from Oliver since the fire and tomorrow night when they shared a bed he would see it first hand, just how real her nightmares had become.

A light tap against the window hidden behind drawn curtains pulled her from her thoughts. She drew back the curtain to be met with Oliver’s smiling face.

“What are you doing here, it’s near on midnight,” she asked, pushing the ground level window up slowly, careful not to make the wood framing squeak.

Oliver leant in, his lips pressing in against Felicity’s as his hand folded in around the back of her neck.  
“I missed you,” he hummed against the plumpness of her bottom lip as his fingers gently stroked her smooth skin.  
“I only saw you at supper and you’re acting like it’s been days,” she whispered, her lips lightly moving across his.  
“Felicity,” he sighed, pulling his face back from hers just enough to see her eyes “I need to come in, please” he asked, his voice husky and low.

Felicity glanced back at the dress that hung just out of view.  
“Just a minute,” she smiled as she pressed a kiss against his forehead before pulling closed the curtain and retreating in the room.

Felicity trailed her fingers across the soft lace of her dress before throwing a blanket over it. She stood back, carefully examining the covered dress to ensure not a bit of it could be seen before she padded on tiptoes back to the window, pulling back the curtain once more.

“Okay, you can come in,” she whispered, offering her hand to him.  
His lips quickly pecked it before digging his palms into the window ledge and hoisting himself up. Felicity stepped back, watching as his arms flexed taunt against the sheer weight of his body as, without breaking a sweat over his brow, he pulled himself into the window, his feet landing heavily on the floor.

“Ssssh,” she reprimanded, pointing down at the heavy boots he was wearing.  
He toed them off as quietly as his could, pushing them against the wall with his foot.

He closed the gap between them in one step, his hands skating against the decidedly thin fabric of the nightgown she wore. He hummed his approval at the way the fabric moved like soft cream under his touch as he lingered warm and passionate kisses against her blushed cheek.

She could feel his chest rising and falling, heavy against her own. She could recognise the hungering that was swelling inside Oliver, because the same had been raging inside her.

Her eyes lulled closed as Oliver feathered his fingers down the neckline of the floating satin. She could feel just the tips of his slightly calloused hands grazing against the round of her breast. Her tongue pressed in against her cupid’s bow as she felt the trance he was pulling her under.  
“We can’t,” she sighed, stopping the advancement of his hand with her own.  
“Why not?”  
“My mother is right next door Oliver,” she laughed softly.  
“And? She sleeps with those earplugs and it ain’t like we haven’t done it with people in the house before,”  
“Still, what if she found us?”  
“I should think it wouldn’t surprise her.”

Oliver watched as Felicity folded her lips tightly closed and pulled the arch of her brow upwards.  
“She doesn’t know you and I have-“  
“No Oliver, she doesn’t,” Felicity interrupted, lightly tapping his arm.  
“She still thinks you’re a-“  
“Yes,” Felicity quipped, “and she doesn’t need to know any different.”  
“Does she just assume that, or did you give her reason to think that?”  
“I may have told her.”  
“Felicity, lying to your mother,” Oliver sniggered in jest.  
“She started having a talk with me a few days ago and she straight up asked me, I didn’t know what to say.”  
“So you told her you were still a virgin?”  
“In a manner of speaking,” Felicity shrugged.  
“How did this talk go?”  
“She said that a man may expect certain favours on a wedding night, but that he should be a gentleman about it. She said she was going to talk to Walter about it, seeing as your Pa isn’t around.”  
“Oh that would explain it,” Oliver smiled with a slow nod of his head.  
“Explain what?”  
“Walter telling me that I needed to be careful with you, that we might be on different levels.”

Felicity’s eyes widened, she could sense what was coming next.  
“And what did you say?” she asked with trepidation.  
“I told him that weren’t a problem for us.”  
“Oliver,” she gasped, “He’s going to tell my mother and she’s going to know I’m not,” her voice trailed off as her eyes darted around the consequences.

“Does it really matter Felicity? She’ll be thinking that tomorrow night.”

Felicity’s mouth fell open, she hadn’t considered that.  
“Oh my word, she’s going to know.”  
“So I don’t think she would be too surprised if she happened to stumble upon us tonight.”  
His thumbs smoothed across her collarbone, gently lulling her in once more.

“Oliver, its bad luck.”  
Oliver stepped a few inches back, his eyes dropping to the floor like there was something he wanted to say, but struggled with the words of it.

“Is that the only reason?” he asked, his words stumbling over each other.  
“Yes,” she replied softly, her eyes though were giving away the truth, _No._  
“You’ve never cared none about tradition or bad luck or you Mam walking in on us before.”  
“Well, maybe I should have.”  
Oliver’s exhale was a heavy sigh as his eyes tugged up and his chin dropped.  
“Don’t do that Felicity, don’t go to that place where you blame yourself and you shut me out.”

Felicity wrapped her arms tightly around her body, her lips trembling as a soft spark of tears fell from her eyes.  
“This isn’t about tomorrow or traditions Felicity, I know it, you know it.”  
“I don’t know what you say to you,” she breathed, her eyes lingering on the ground below her feet.  
“Tell me all I’ve ever asked from you, just the truth, no matter what it is.”  
She heard the pain running through the tone of his voice but she turned away, unwilling – unsure – how to offer him what she was so terribly ashamed of.

“We haven’t been together since New York Felicity and I don’t mean to sound like I’m pressuring you because I would wait a lifetime if that’s what you asked of me, but I need a reason that fits you and tradition, ain’t it.”

Felicity squeezed out the tears, her shoulder pressing in against her cheek as she oved slowly around the room.  
“If it’s me, just tell me. All I want is for you to be happy, even if that’s not with me.”

She spun around, the gravity of what he was saying – what he was feeling – hitting her with an unexplainable fear.  
“Oliver, no, that’s not it. I love you, I absolutely love you. You’re the only man I will ever be with.”  
“Then why, I’ll understand if you just tell me.”  
She bit back on her lip, her eyes wet with tears.  
“I’m afraid.”  
“Of what?”  
“Of hurting you,” she whispered, dancing her fingers lightly in the air.  
Oliver’s burns were a reminder of so much and each minute he endured pain because of them was a minute that Felicity felt the guilt.

“The burns?”  
She nodded, snapping back a sharp breathy tear.  
“You see them as something bad?”  
“How could I not Oliver? I see the pain that you try to hide.”  
“Pain isn’t always bad Felicity. It makes us remember what we live for, what we fight for. I don’t feel sad when I feel any pain from them. I feel alive and I feel grateful and I’m reminded about just how lucky I am.”  
“But you could have died.”  
“But I didn’t and neither did you, that’s why I’m lucky. They’re not a reminder to me of what could have happened, they’re a reminder of what didn’t.”

“I will walk through a million fires if it keeps you with me. I can’t ask you to look at them the same way Felicity, but know that I only see the good in them.”

Felicity stooped over as the tears travelled crooked trails down her sodden cheeks.  
“There’s more to this, isn’t there?” he asked the question as his palm swiped through the burning tears of her cheek, but the moment her eyes met his he already had the answer.

“The nightmares?” he asked knowingly.  
“I’m afraid you’ll see me as broken,” she whispered, stroking a palm down her arm.  
“I could never see you that way,” he gushed, his eyes begging her to believe him.

“I’ll lay with you tonight, you can tell me about them, I can watch over you.”  
As much as she wanted to find the words to beg him to do just that, she knew that would mean she had to face it herself and tonight, a few hours before they were to be married she didn’t want to pull that thread – afraid doing so would cause her to completely unravel.

“No,” she replied softly, “but tomorrow night will you hold me?”

She noted the helplessness still trapped in the blue pool of his eyes, as he nodded kindly, Oliver understood – he always had, he always would.

“You still want tomorrow?” he asked, his fingers toiling around her ring.  
She breathed a smile, fallen tears lightly glistening against the pale pink of them in the low light of the room.  
“Yes, without a word of a lie, yes Oliver. I’ll be there.”  
He nodded his head once before lightly kissing her cheek.  
“I love you Felicity, forever.”  
“For always,” she mouthed back, just the lightest touch of a whisper.

He left slowly, the same way he had come in, his eyes barely looking away from her for longer than a moment.

She wished him goodnight with a smile, a smile that promised she would see him soon.

**Saturday, 8 November 1924**

It was a few minutes before midday and Oliver let the wind sweep over him as he cast an eye across the valley to the opposite mountain where he knew his father lay.

There was a wisp of sadness strung through the bright blue of his eyes as he smoothed his hands down the breast of his shirt. For a moment Oliver lingered on the memories of his father, they were slightly faded now, the years slowly taking the vividness from his memories, but he could still hear Robert Queen’s voice coursing through his mind as he spoke to Oliver about the weight of a man’s heart.

“ _They say a man isn’t one that wears his heart open on his sleeve_ ” Robert had coached a young fourteen year old Oliver “ _but when you have the most honest privilege of seeing the woman you love walk towards you in wedding dress, you ought know that heart is on display for the world to see_ ”  
Oliver had scoffed as he had scrubbed the tanned leather saddle.  
“ _It’s the God honest truth Oliver, there isn’t anything more stunning than a woman willing to marry a man like us_ ” Robert had laughed, the bright smile lighting up even through his gruff beard  
“ _One day you’ll understand it son, and I’ll see it written on your face when you finally do_ ”

Oliver felt the heavy weight of his father’s words ‘ _I’ll see it_ ’ as he glanced back towards his mother and Thea who were sitting on a log bench, wrapped for the brisk but clear day. Robert Queen should have been sitting beside them, he should have seen the man his son had become. The thought of it was burdensome on his soul until a heavy whip of wind picked up a trail of fallen leaves a swept them in circles around Oliver’s feet.

There was no explanation for what he thought he felt, or thought he heard, but nevertheless there was a tap against his shoulder and the wind spoke clearly to him.  
_I’ll see it, the moment you see her._  
_Just look._

Oliver turned his head down the aisle lined with bunched lilies tied either side of the wooden logs used as benches set atop their hill, next to the laid foundation of what would become their house.

He saw her before Tommy could say anything as he stood beside Oliver.  
_When you see her...your heart will be on display_  
And it absolutely was.

Oliver’s eyes felt almost unworthy of seeing her, his breath was stolen straight from his lungs and the small crowd of loved ones around him simply vanished. Oliver only saw Felicity, walking towards him in a fine cream dress, the style of it as simple as it was stunning, the sun was high behind her, casting a glow over her tousled hair, the front pinned back with a small braid and trinket hairpin he had bought her all those years ago.

Her mother’s fine lace veil spilled beautifully down her back and waved softly in the wind over her face, her blushed-pink stained lips tipped up at the corners into a sweetly timid smile.

Oliver could feel it completely. His heart beating on his sleeve for the whole world to see.

***~*~*~***

Felicity felt the brisk air like tiny pin pricks on her flushed cheeks, a welcomed respite to the sweltering nerves she felt building up the moment John had helped her from the car for the short walk up the hill.

Macie had walked ahead of her, offering Felicity a knowing wink as Felicity gripped the small bouquet of white lilies, bound with a simple blue ribbon, tightly in her trembling hands.

“Are you ready?” John asked crooking his arm for Felicity to thread her own though.  
“Thank you for walking with me John,” Felicity breathed, her quivered breath trying to keep the tears at bay.  
“I know you wish it could be your dad, but he’s standing right beside you, you ought know that.”  
Felicity dipped her head, smiling thankfully before her eyes gently lapsed closed as she pictured Noah’s face.  
“ _That one will treat you right....Oliver will love you._ ”  
She offered her father a silent prayer of thanks, grateful with the last bit of life in him he saw her happy, he saw the man Oliver was and he gave his blessing. That had been his parting gift to her, a gift that saw her believe what John said, her father was standing right beside her.

Over the crest of the hill she saw him, standing almost alone at the end of the aisle, his eyes fixed of her, unrelentingly still as though he was afraid to blink. The nerves fell away from her, her breath light under the tight lace weaved bodice of the dress that billowed in the wind, replaced instead with a soft, almost timid smile.

There was her Oliver.  
The only man she would ever give her heart to.

She wanted to run to him, let him sweep her up into his arms to bring a lightness to the quiet serenity of the moments shared between them now, but it was John who held her back, slowing her pace.  
“Enjoy each step closer,” he whispered with a soft smile.

So she did, studying his face with each step. First his hands, rolling nervously over each other. The cream shirt he wore under the tanned leather suspenders had the sleeves folded up in a touch that was effortlessly Oliver.

She watched his mouth for the next few steps, memorizing the way his lips had fallen slightly open, just the corners turned up into a smile. A few more steps found her staring at the crisp blue of his eyes – that’s what she was walking towards, her forever, for always in those perfectly blue eyes.

Felicity reached the end of the aisle still caught in the depth of his stare as Macie helped fold back the veil exposing her blushed cheeks to the soft breeze the whipped around them as they stood beside a ridgeline of magnolia trees decorated with lengths of satin ribbons and crystal beads that danced atop the breeze.

“Hi,” he breathed, offering her his hand.  
“Hi,” she repeated before pouting her lips together, swallowing nervously.  
“You look beautiful,” he whispered the compliment, meant only for her.  
His eyes caught the sight of the plunged back of her dress as the vintage veil curved around her clinched waist, the mere arch of her spine careening him towards an insatiable desire to feather a path of kisses down it.

Felicity squeezed his hand, her fingers interlocked with his.  
“Let’s get married,” she sighed with a permanent smile.  
“Aye miss,” Oliver replied happily.

Most of the words that followed were lost on the ears of the young lovers, caught up in their own story of silent words spoken in looks they shared with each other until the time came for them to speak their own expressions, their own vows.

Felicity spoke first, batting her eyelashes heavily against her lightly powdered cheeks.  
“Oliver, I was always scared of the chickens as a girl and I couldn’t stand the smell of the that trough you made me fill with food litterings all those years back, but if doing that led me to this moment then I’d do it every day after this as penance, because with you is where I want to stand. Beside you and no other is where I know I belong. It took you longer to realise it, but forever is worth waiting for,” she breathed softly, her chest rising with each line she spoke.

“I promise to run, ride or walk beside you, wherever you lead, I’ll follow. Whatever path we take, we’ll take it together. Whatever trial we face, we’ll face it together. Oliver I will, love you completely, with every breath I take in truth I promise, forever, for always.”

Felicity threaded the ring, poised in her trembling hands, onto Oliver’s finger. The simple platinum band had been crafted by Tommy and gifted, together with Felicity’s wedding band, to them in thanks – he had said – for never taking the path of least resistance, in friendship, in love and in life.

Oliver smiled, choking back his words for a moment to settle his nerves.  
“Felicity, with you I see a chance, a chance to be better, a chance to wake up every morning and wonder just how to show you how much you mean to me that day, everyday anew. I’ll stand behind you when you want to shine and I’ll hold you up when you want to climb. I’ll be your shoulder when you need to cry and I’ll hold you tight when the darkness comes by. I’ll love you in times of strength when you just need me to cheer you on and I’ll love you in times of weakness when I won’t ever let you fall. I’ll never stop trying to be the man you deserve. Whatever you ask of me I’ll give.”

He stopped, his palm smoothing over the back of her hand as Tommy handed him her ring.  
“Felicity, I will promise you my life, in truth, in light, I’m yours.”

* * *

It was dark now, the crested moon was high in the night sky, shrouded in clouds that moved at speed across the blanket of stars as Oliver lifted Felicity into the air spilling a raucous laugh from her mouth.

“What are you doing Oliver Queen?” she grinned, wrapping her legs around his waist as her fingers dug into the short strands of hair at his nape.  
“Carrying you like I ought,” he laughed, massaging his hands into her ass as her dress rode up her thighs, his jacket hanging loosely around her frame.  
“I don’t reckon this is how they do it,” Felicity pouted through her laugh, glad to have left the small reception happening in one of the barns a short walk away.

“While I reckon this way suits us much better,” Oliver crooned the words into her flushed neck.  
“You reckon do you?” she smirked, catching his bottom lip in her teeth.  
“Aye, and every year on this night I’ll carry you through our door the same way.”  
“Better hope I’m not heavy with child on any of those nights, or you get so old you can’t carry me none anymore.”

Oliver scoffed with a jested laugh.  
“I’ll carry you when I’m grey and old.”  
“You’re a fool of a man Oliver Queen.”  
“And you’re the best thing a fool like me could ever want for.”

His lips pressed against Felicity’s, gingerly humming a contented breath against the pillowed softness of them as he pushed the door to the tiny cottage open.

It was a short walk with her chest pressed to his and their bodies entangled as their mouths crashed together, heavy in hot breaths and charged with passionate flames.

Oliver lowered her feet gently to the floor, tapping the door closed with a heavy foot, for the first time in what seemed like a lifetime, they were alone without hiding in shadows.

She swayed gently in his arms, turning her back towards him as she swept his hand up into her own and led him through the small front room of the cottage to the quaint little bedroom.

Felicity swallowed lightly as Oliver pressed a kiss to her neck as his fingers dragged his jacket slowly from her shoulders, the heavy jacket plopped loudly to the ground at his feet.

His fingers slid lingeringly down her exposed spine, a hot languishing kiss at the tip of her spine for each half inch his fingers travelled until he reached the three small buttons holding the lace and silk chiffon dress around her waist.

Each button came free without a fight as Oliver pressed his palms into her back, licking a delectably light path up her spine before his thumbs folded over the edge of her dress and eased the capped sleeves from her shoulders.

She felt the cool rush of the air sweep in across her back when the dress floated beautifully to a billowed pool around her feet.

His arms smoothed down her bare shoulders, his lips making a path along the base of her neck.  
“Are you okay?” he whispered, his lips folding around her earlobe.  
She turned in his arms, her naked skin like the finest silk in his arms. Watching his eyes dance over her naked chest felt like their first time all over again because like that moment, and every one that had followed it, he looked at her like she was the only thing in the room, like she was his purpose – his life.

“I’m sorry I made you wait,” she breathed, her fingers skimming down the buttons of his shirt, slowly unfastening them.  
“You’ll always be worth the wait,” he smiled, lapping up the way her fingers danced lightly against the light cotton shirt.

She slipped the shirt from his shoulders, watching it as it too floated to the floor beside her dress.  
“Oliver?” she let his name drip like honey from her painted red lips.  
“Yes?” he replied, swallowing heavily.  
“How will you love me tonight?” she asked shyly, her lip snagged up in her teeth.  
“However you want me to,” he replied, stooping to press the words with heated kisses into the dip of her breastbone.  
“I want you to decide. As your wife, ask it of me,” she blew the words against his scorched skin as her hands slipped under the waistband of his pants, firmly pressing against his engorged cock.

Without the smile dropping from his lips he walked her backwards towards the bed, his arm stopping her just before she toppled onto the green quilt.  
“Will you take these off and kneel on the bed?” he asked, his hand smoothing down her mound, pressing in against her white lace panties.

She looked at him quizzically, but did as he asked, slipping the panties slowly down her legs as he watched with heavily lidded eyes. She stepped up onto the bed, the orange lights of the room bouncing lightly off her body, creating heavy shadows in the dips and curves.

Felicity dropped to her knees watching his chest jerk back at the suddenness of her move.  
“Like this?” she asked, the blush from her cheeks pulsing colour down between her breasts.  
“Yes,” he breathed his reply, “do you remember how I moved your hand over your body in New York?”

She nodded without hesitation, she remembered with almost vivid recall the way he had shown her to put her own hands on her body, to move across the same path he would take so that when she felt alone she could recount it and imagine it was his hand that was causing her such pleasure.

“Will you show me?” he rasped.  
She flushed a wild fuchsia at his request.  
“It’s okay if you don’t want to, just the moment of you in the window all that time back,” he too was blushing , his tongue lapping over his lips, “I’ve always wanted to watch you.”

She sat up on her knees, the words stolen from her for just a moment.  
“Maybe I shouldn’t-“ he started before she caught his wrist, pressing his palm to the soft round of her navel.  
“Will you start me off?” she asked, slipping her other hand underneath his palm, her eyes blinking her dark lashes heavy against her peached cheeks.

He pressed down against her hand, rolling in over the curve of her stomach, dipping in just slightly before rising back up over her brimming mound. Her eyes lulled closed as his fingers pulled back, resting atop the back of her hand and allowing her fingers to gently ease between her tempered folds.

Oliver watched as her bottom lip pouted softly with just a hint of a quiver as her slender fingers slipped through her heat, rolling over her clenched nub.  
“Like that,” he breathed as his hand pulled away, skating a path down the shadowed curve of her waist and nestling in against her hips.

Her face twitched momentarily as he pulled her closer to the edge of the bed. Felicity’s eyes slowly opened to watch as he stripped off the rest of his clothes and took tenement on his knees at the foot of the bed. She was curious, but decided to simply watch him as he became mesmerised by the way her fingers were moving gracefully between her folds.

The gathering wind that rustled through the trees just outside the windows spurred her fingers deeper as did the way Oliver watched her, his eyes in line with her sex, drinking in the enchanting sight of her.

His fingers slipped in around the back of her naked thighs, his touch so incredibly light she would not have known they were there had she not been watching it with her own eyes.

She could feel her fingers become wet with her own heated flow as her body began to slowly and involuntarily rock.  
“Oliver,” she breathed his name as the wind whipped against the glass, echoing the sound of it gently shaking through the room.

“Did you say my name when I wasn’t there?” he asked, his fingers now lightly scratching small lines up the inside of her thighs.  
She licked her lips, her head rolling to the side as she felt his breath against her sweltering sex.  
“Always,” she mewled.  
“When you called to me, was I there?”  
She swallowed down, her lidded eyes making out the shape of his head moving towards her, blowing cool breaths against her fingers.  
“Always,” she repeated with a shallow breath.

Her mouth fell open as Oliver, without warning, wrapped his mouth around her fingers, pushing his tongue deep into her folds. Her knees suddenly felt weak and her body waned against the intense pleasure that surged through her body.

Her other hand gripped into Oliver’s hair to steady her as one of his hand pressed firm against her ass, pushing her body deeper into him.

Oliver’s tongue scouted around the warmth and sweet slick of her juices, relishing in the way her body was twitching around him, her fingers still making smooth paths over her clit, lightly flicking it and rolling it between her thumb and forefinger just as he had shown her.

His tongue pushed inside her, her body jerking up and her hand tightening in his hair in response.  
“Oliver,” she groaned, muffled slightly between her heavy pants.  
His tongue moved around inside her, pulling in and out of her repeatedly, sensitive to the way her walls fluttered around him.

He loved the way she responded to him, the way she offered herself so freely to him, it was a trust that he knew she had in him and no other.

His cock was pressed heavy against the foot of the bed, throbbing in anticipation until he could take it no longer. He drew back from her just as suddenly as he had delved into her. He watched her face twist with displeasure until he pressed his palm back into her hand, pushing her own fingers deep inside her and causing her to cry out in unabashed delight.

Oliver wasted very few seconds slipping onto the bed behind her, his legs tucked under his body, bent at the knees .  
“Turn around,” he hummed into her ear as his hands clenched in at her waist.

She felt faint in his arms, her body trembling with the remnants of his warm breath against her and the heavy handed way he pushed her own fingers inside her sensitive body, her walls caving in around her. Her head lulled back as she turned in his hands, her core tightening across the band of her navel.

“Not yet,” he cooed, pulling her hand abruptly from her body and bringing it swiftly to his mouth.  
She watched with wide eyes as he sucked on her fingers, his tongue lathing down the side of each finger, feasting on the sweet juices that coated her fingers.

She moaned instinctively, her body awash with a cacophony of sensations. She had been so close to tipping over the edge and her body craved it, her skin was like fire desperate for release.  
“Oliver pl-“ she stopped her words as he pulled her closer, collapsing her body onto his muscular, taunt thighs.

His thick, erect shaft glided between her, causing her mouth to spill forth heated breaths as her back concaved and her head dropped to his shoulder. Instinctively she rocked her hips, spreading herself over his shaft.

Oliver anchored one hand onto the softly swaying curve of her ass as the other folded through her hair, pressing his body closer to her.  
“I need your hand to guide me,” he whispered, lightly pulling her head from his shoulder.  
She looked with blown eyes and a glistening of sweat across her brow, her lip pinched inwards.  
Her hand glided over his chest, taking her time to feel his heart thumping under her palm, before she gripped his shaft tightly.

She rose up off his lap, her breasts dancing an inch from his mouth as he nipped kisses forward, catching her pebbled nipple with his slicked tongue. She hovered his tip a hair’s breath from her sweltering and wet entrance.

Slowly Felicity lowered herself, easing his thick, pulsing shaft into her. She arched her back, resting it against his palm to let him push deeper. Oliver watched her head tip backwards, her loose hair spilling onto his knees as she arched further, pressing his cock against her humming walls.

She didn’t stop till he was fully buried inside her, her body resting back on his thighs. This new position made him feel immense inside her, stealing her breath for all the right reasons.  
“Hold onto me Felicity,” his voice rasped.

She shifted him inside her, the ricochet feeling sending a pleasure spike down his shaft and into his core as she leaned forward and folded her arms around his neck, peppering a hot trail of kisses into his neck.

Her fingers skated across his twisted new scars  
_They’re not a reminder to me of what could have happened, they’re a reminder of what didn’t_  
She touched them that night not with any fear, but with love, she saw them how he did, each one was a mark of his love, his fight – for her, for them. He fought for her when she couldn’t fight for herself.

Oliver pressed inside, stealing a moment to focus on the tight warmth he felt inside her, before he pulled back an inch, held it, then delved back in, pushing the breath from her lips.

He repeated the rhythm, slowly at first but as she bit into the soft of his neck it spurred him on, quickening his pace. Felicity moved with him, her breasts gently bouncing against his chest as he moaned fervently.

Her fingers laced into the short strands of his hair as she leaned back again, letting him mount her deeper as she coaxed him on with her dewy pout and her hungry eyes.

“You’re mine, I’m yours,” he panted, tugging gently at her hair as her head rolled to the side.  
“Every part of me Oliver,” she replied, his name lingering a little longer on her tongue.

His cock thumped inside her, gliding between her tight, slick walls as the sweltering heat resonating from his taunt thighs sent a fevered sensation through Felicity’s folds, catching the heat rampantly against her tightly bound clit.

The pleasure was immense as her walls clenched tightly around his cock. Her body finally toppled over the edge and her release coated heavy warmth down his shaft, encasing it completely.

He came moments later with a heavy thrust inside her that made her cry out his name without restraint before he caught her lips with his own, swallowing her mewled and impassioned cries.

They shook together in hot breaths and heavy, rasped groans. Oliver pressed Felicity’s messed hair back from her face, relishing the glow that fanned across her cheeks and sunk into the dip of her lips.

He didn’t need to offer words of reassurance, his eyes said it all. So he simply watched, watched her lull through her release, watched her naked breasts as they glistened with a light veil of sweat and watched as she mouthed the words meant for Oliver and him alone, _I love you._

They fell asleep that night, Oliver stroking light lines down her arm waiting for her to succumb to sleep first before he nestled in behind her, their bodies naked and pressed together. The nightmares never came that night letting her rest easy in the arms of her Oliver.

Oliver the one who she loved completely. The one who loved her back equally.

They had embarked on a new journey that day, carving their joint paths out of the riverbed together. Their love ran deep with a flurry of memories from the past and hopes for the future. This was but one story they had embossed on their lives together, the first perhaps, but certainly not the last.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> #OlicitySmutBucketList = Kneeling + watching ;)


	3. The Awakening

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's really long...  
> I hope you enjoy it. Xox

** **

**29 November 1924**

“You really have to go?” Felicity asked, leaning an elbow up against the small kitchen bench.  
“I wish I didn’t, but given that they’ve asked and we won’t get this place off the ground without their backing, I rightly think I should,” Oliver sighed, folding the small telegram between his fingers as he leant back in the simple wooden dining chair “besides, the wage they’re offering me is a good one.”

“You’re too good of a man for this world Oliver Queen,” Felicity smiled as she padded the short distance over to him and sat herself on his lap, her legs spread either side of his.

“I know what you’re trying to do,” Oliver smirked as his fingers walked slowly up her legs, dipping under the hem of his t-shirt that she had adopted, to wear in the morning instead of the perfectly good robe she had hanging on the back of the bedroom door.

Not that Oliver minded, in fact he loved watching her pad around the house in the morning, her hair usually unkempt and her face free from any colouring that wasn’t her own, dressed only in his t-shirt that swamped around her and the rounded tail of which scooped down under her ass. In fact, if he was honest, the sight of all that nearly tore a hole in his inseam – and Felicity, judging by the way she would swan around in front of him, knew it.

“I don’t rightly know what you mean,” she purred, pressing her pouted lips at the seam of his ear.  
“You do, and it ain’t going to work this time. I got work to do. I can’t be holed up in here with you all morning,” Oliver protested as his lips – clearly not in on the protest – skated warmed kisses down her elongated neck.

Felicity had successfully managed to make him stay in the house till noon each day since the wedding less than a month ago, and while he absolutely relished the languid hours they spent entangled in each other, he was beginning to fall behind with the building work on the house and the Ranch, especially given that heavy winter was fast approaching.

“It’s like our honeymoon,” Felicity frowned, crinkling the skin between her groomed brows.  
“We agreed to postpone a honeymoon given the work we need to do,” he retorted, thumbing his finger across her crinkled skin.

“Which you won’t let me help with,” she scoffed, rocking her pelvis against his brimming erection.  
“I told you, just as soon as there is something you can be helping me with, you can, but you’re the brains Felicity. It’s because of what’s in here-” he tapped her forehead lightly, “that this place will be a success and you’ll make your Pa proud.”

Felicity curved the corners of her lips up with appreciation. Despite the general consensus around the Ranching community that a woman’s place was in the kitchen making sure the men ate well enough to work hard, Oliver never belittled Felicity like that. He had always maintained that Verdant would be her legacy before his; and that anyone unwilling to accept that wasn’t worth doing business with.

He had implicit trust in her ability to run the bones of the Ranch and that she was the key to it becoming a success. She wasn’t sure if Oliver was right about that but the way he stood behind her was reassuring all the same.

“Stay another hour with me, the sun only just came up,” she pouted, ghosting her lips over his.  
Oliver took a heavy inhale, his calloused hands relishing the way her soft thighs felt underneath them.  
“You know I would.”  
“Don’t say but, just stay.”  
“Felicity, I need to get a lot done before I have to leave in two days. Besides you should visit your Mam at church group today.”

Felicity crinkled up her nose as her hands wrapped around the back of his neck, her body arching backwards.  
“Why? I’ll go on Sunday like everyone else,” she laughed.  
“What we did last night might require some extra repentance.”

Felicity snapped her lips inward, closed between her teeth as her eyes blew wide.  
“That was your idea.”  
Oliver smiled, running one hand through her crumpled hair.  
“Then you best be saying an extra _Hail Mary_ for me because I thoroughly enjoyed it.”  
Oliver laughed as he watched her cheeks blush pink. Despite the passionate moments they had shared together, Felicity’s deep innocence still showed through every so often and Oliver couldn’t help but be enamoured by it.

The way she could hold the most polite of conversations to the way she demurely sat to play the piano or the very proper attire she would wear in public, these were all in stark contrast to the Felicity she let him see within their four walls. It was like their little secret.

“Speaking of last night,” he spoke softly, his tone changing to one of concern, “you didn’t sleep much did you?”  
Felicity bowed her head, her fingers still toying with the short strands of hair at the back of his neck – she didn’t realise he had noticed. She had tried to be so quiet.

Despite the first night she slept with Oliver being a deeply restful one, the nightmares returned the next night; and with a vengeance. Night after night she had woken in a cold sweat, but for the most part silently. She would then slip out from beside Oliver, throw on the shirt that made her feel like his arms were safely around her and she would sit quietly in the other room with tears marring single tracks down her cheeks.

Last night had been particularly haunting. She had woken up frightened that the walls were on fire. The smell of death was seeped in every breath she took and she couldn’t escape the sounds that crawled through her brain – the crackling of the paint chipping off the burning wood or the _whops_ of the flames lurching closer.

Even the dining table couldn’t rid her of those thoughts. So she had taken a blanket from the glory box and sat outside on the small porch, her knees pulled tightly into her chest, just breathing in the starkly cold, but equally fresh, night air, returning to bed an hour or so later. She had not realised Oliver had even noticed.

“Just restless, it’s a new house,” she lied as she refused to meet his eyes.  
It didn’t matter, he could tell she was lying.  
“Felicity,” he spoke her name with the most endearing of phrasing, “you’re not alone, you can talk to me, you can _trust_ me.”  
He was pleading with her, his hands cupping her face feathering the small tears that rolled down her cheeks.

“It’s nothing, it’s foolish,” she dismissed, burying her face into his neck.  
“It’s okay to feel Felicity. Let yourself feel and I won’t let you do it alone.”  
“But you,” she touched a finger to his back, _you feared so much worse._  
“Felicity,” he spoke firmer, his tongue lapping across the seam of his lips, “You almost died and it’s okay to feel that.”

He brushed her hair back rapidly, tugging her face up to look at him.  
“It’s okay to break. You don’t always have to be so strong. Cry and I will wipe your tears.”

Her head dropped once more to his chest and her tears, as if waiting behind her blue eyes for his instruction, flowed freely from that moment. She cried, and she _cried_ ; and he held her, and he _held_ her.

After what seemed like a lifetime of tears had passed, Oliver pressed a kiss against her silken hair and whispered into her ear, “I’m going to go Ma’s to make a few calls, California can wait.”

“No Oliver,” Felicity sniffed, pulling her head back from his chest, “You need to go to California, it’s important.”  
“Not as important as you,” he interjected.  
“I’ll be fine, please go.”

Oliver combed his fingers gently through her hair, breathing out a soft exhale between his smiling lips.  
“I love you,” he replied simply, stroking his hand down her smooth dampened cheek.  
“I know,” she shot back, pecking a soft kiss against his crinkled forehead, her eyes only glimpsing the slight disappointment that he hadn’t fought her a little harder on going.

* * *

  
It seemed like he had been gone only a few minutes when Oliver returned an hour after midday to find Felicity hanging out some freshly laundered clothes in the flapping breeze.

She hadn’t heard him approach, lost in her own thoughts about a million different things, so when his arms swept around her waist and his lips pressed in against her neck she screamed out in surprise and jolted her elbow backwards, catching Oliver square in the abdomen.

“What on earth are you thinking?” Felicity snapped, throwing a wet dish rag at him.  
Oliver laughed, hunched over, as he attempted to get back the breath she had forced from his lungs with his hand raised in a ‘surrender’ above his head.

“Don’t be sneaking up on me like that Oliver,” she pouted, patting her flustered cheek.  
“Lesson learned,” he croaked as he handed her back the rag she had thrown at him.

She took it from him with pursed lips and narrowed eyes before slapping his shoulder in jest.  
“What are you even doing here?” she asked, flopping the rag over the line and pushing down two wooden pegs to secure it.  
“Where is that little yellow dress of yours?” he asked, gingerly touching a hand to her waist.  
“Hanging up inside, it’s hardly the dress for laundering in,” Felicity replied, letting him swoop her in closer.  
“Make sure you pack it,” he smiled, pressing his palm into the small of her back.  
“Oliver, have you been out in the sun too long? You’re not making any sense,” she laughed as her fingers combed down his neck and along his shoulders.

“We’re going to California.”  
“Oliver, I-“  
He stopped her mouth with a sweetly rich kiss.  
“We should have a honeymoon, everything else can wait,” he added, his nose gliding against her face.  
“But-“  
He kissed her again, deeper, his lips bearing down hotly on hers as his tongue lapped across the seam of her lips.  
“Everything is sorted already, I’ve got our tickets. We’ll spend a week just forgetting about everything else. You’ll come back and stay with your Mam a few nights while I’ll stay on and work, I’ll be back before you know.”

Felicity wondered for a moment whether she ought to fight him on it, insist it wasn’t necessary and that she would be fine; but there was almost nothing farther from the truth. She _wanted_ this and deep down she knew she desperately _needed_ it.

She blinked down, swiping away a rogue tear before looking back up at him with clear blue eyes that melted in the high sun.  
“I don’t know what to say,” she sniffed, a bright smile brimming across her rosy lip as she pulled it between her teeth.  
Oliver smiled as he plucked her plump lip from between her teeth, smoothing his thumb across it.  
“Just say you can pack that little yellow dress. We leave tonight.”  
“Tonight?” Felicity gasped, running her palms down her dress, “Oliver that’s not nearly enough time to sort things.”  
“Sort what? Throw some clothes in a suitcase,” he smiled cupping her face, cocking his own so their eyes could meet, “yes?”

“Yes,” she nodded in his hands.  
He leaned in and pressed a lingered kiss to her forehead.  
“I have a few more things to take care of at the Ranch. I’ll be back in a few hours and John will take us to the train station at six.”

He kissed her softly blushed lips once more as his thumbs brushed over her warmed cheeks.  
“I love you,” he whispered, the words ghosting over her lips.  
“I love you too,” she hummed, her eyes lulling closed in his comforting hands.

* * *

  
“It’s probably not as fancy as the one to New York,” Oliver smiled as he lifted Felicity’s chestnut-leather trunk onto the steel racks above the red velvet couch seats.

Felicity let her eyes track around the small compartment. It was small and without anything more than two face-to-face couch seats which folded out into a bed and a small folding card table.

The heavy reds of the plush interior paired with deep red oak panelling made the small space seem even smaller and darker until Felicity pushed open the curtains that hung across the large window.

“It’s perfect,” she smiled, looking out into the falling evening.  
The journey would take almost two days and it was a far cry to the lavish rooms that she had spent the longer journey to New York in, but as Oliver threaded his arms around her waist and kissed lightly into the crook of her neck she knew that she would take this tiny little compartment over the most extravagant of ones if it meant being with Oliver.

She hadn’t let her mind focus on the journey back she would take alone – that would wait for now.

* * *

  
Felicity sighed, gently closing the book and pressing a kiss against Oliver’s temple as he lay with his head on her lap, his eyes closed and a tiny slither of a smile present on his sleeping face.

He had fallen asleep a few passages back but Felicity had kept reading regardless, enjoying the way his lips folded into different expressions as the train rumbled overs the tracks underneath them.

It was nearing midnight when Felicity switched off the small reading light beside her and shifted down the bed, rolling Oliver’s head onto his plumped pillow which the steward had brought, together with linen and blankets, a little after 8pm.

He had eyed them with heavily aged eyes as he had walked in on them wrapped in each other’s arms watching the distant lights and stars float past the window. It hadn’t been until the older man had caught sight of the ring on Oliver’s finger that his expression softened and he had asked them if they were newlyweds, which Oliver had confirmed with a beaming smile that had made Felicity’s heart skip at least half a dozen beats.

To everyone else in the world Oliver was the silent, stoic hard worker who barely spoke a word out of turn and who irrevocably stood for what he believed was right. In so many aspects she saw a man not unlike her father – strong, careful and reserved, but unlike Noah, Oliver loved without fear. He didn’t hide his thoughts from her, didn’t dampen down the smile he got when he saw her and he never shied away from expressing his genuine love for her, whether in public or in private.

Like he had always promised, her heart was safe with Oliver. As the rain lightly tapped against the window pane behind the closed curtains, Felicity knew that whatever storm they might face in the future, if they just held onto each other no matter what, that they would get through it.

_No matter what._

“Have you finished?” Oliver whispered into the dark room, the low rattle of the train tracks underneath them the only other sound to be heard.  
“Mmmhmm,” she hummed softly back, nestling her cheek into his bare chest as his arm instinctively wrapped around her.

She listened to his breath passing slowly though his nose as his chest rose and fell beneath her, the warmth of his body sending a comforting lull down her spine as her body relaxed into him.

He sighed contentedly as her fingers ran channels up and down his smooth chest, toying briefly with the smattering of fine hair between his breastbone. Felicity smiled into the dense night as her eyes grew closed imagining the way his muscles curved across his body, the deep valleys and the taunt peeks. Her tongue swiped across her bottom lip, moistening it with a soft veil of dew before she pressed a kiss into his chest and lightly tracked her lips down his body.

Oliver felt the hot moan escape from his lips as Felicity folded her hand under his briefs and wrapped it tightly around his growing shaft. He could barely see her but the heavenly warmth of her lips against his chest gave her away as did the slow sway of her body against his, her cotton night shirt barely disguising the feeling of her pebbled nipple against the side of his body.

“Here?” he whispered, his fingers laced through her hair as he pulled her upwards, her body lightly ramping up onto his.  
“I’ll be quiet, I promise,” she smiled, capturing his lips blindly with her own.

The gentle pace of her hand around his cock set the rhythm for the lingered way they made love that night. It was drawn out and full of whispered breaths and soft mewls as their hands explored each other in the thick darkness.

It had been one of those times where they had spent countless moments bathing in each other’s kisses. Where they took each moment and played with it, stretching it out till they found their joint releases and fell asleep in the warm comfort of each other’s arms.

It was one of the times that cemented their love – _no matter what._

* * *

  
The rain had well and truly settled in as Oliver and Felicity stepped out onto the station platform almost two days after leaving Starling. The wind whipped Felicity’s blond ponytail across her face as she hugged her coat tighter around her frame, huddling behind Oliver as he carried the suitcases to a small slither of shelter under the eaves of the train station roof.

“I didn’t think it was supposed to rain in California,” she laughed, wringing the water from her hair.  
“I guess we happened upon the one time a year that it does,” Oliver replied, tucking the four bags under the slatted wooden seat next to them.  
“I’m going to go get us a taxi, wait here out of the rain,” he spoke over the pelting rain on the tin roof above them.

Felicity nodded before pressing a soft kiss against his saturated cheek. She lulled against his shoulder for a lingered moment as he breathed in against her hair.  
“I’ll be right back,” he assured, before ducking back out into the heavy rain, the drops bouncing a halo around the rim of his weathered hat.

He returned a few minutes later, his clothes soaked through and clinging to his frame – a sight which Felicity took a few moments to enjoy as he bent down and collected the bags.  
“Can you run in those shoes, or do I need to come back and fetch you?” he winked, nodding down to Felicity’s slightly heeled Mary Janes.

“I’ll be fine,” she replied with a quick backhand to his shoulder, “lead the way.”

* * *

  
The white window shutters banged ominously against the flaked salmon colour facade of the worn-looking hotel that the taxi pulled up in front of.  
“This here is the closest to the Pier, there are some nicer stays around but they’ll cost you,” the driver remarked, leaning over the black leather seats as he waited for instructions.  
“We could try and find somewhere nicer,” Oliver remarked, his hand locked onto Felicity’s.  
“It’ll be fine Oliver, look how close it is,” Felicity replied, squinting into the rain back towards the Pier.

Oliver paid the driver with a thankful nod before turning his attention back towards Felicity, her saturated wisps of hair stuck flat against her porcelain skin.  
“Ready to make a run for it?”  
She tipped her head to the side before brushing a chilled kiss against his wet cheek.  
“Absolutely.”

Felicity ran across the almost deserted road a few steps ahead of Oliver with her handbag pressed in close to her body as the heavy rain glued her once flouncing coat stiff against her legs.

She blew out a puffed laugh as she reached the small, almost non-existent awning of the imposing salmon-coloured building, the red lettering on the sign at the door clearly reading ‘ _Vacancies_ ’.  
“At least they have rooms available,” she smiled as Oliver stepped under the awning beside her, their bags balanced either side of him.  
“I ain’t really surprised by that,” Oliver winked as Felicity pulled open the heavy brass paned door and they stepped inside.

The foyer of the hotel was covered in heavy red woods and deep burgundy velvet – a look completely at odds with the outside of the building. The carpet was swirls of red and brown, flecked with purple and was worn heavily along the main paths taken through the building.

The lights were bright, showing up each imperfection in the painted and papered walls. Felicity had seen better, but it was, for the most part, clean and comfortable.

She followed Oliver to the front desk where a paper and pen were pushed abruptly towards Oliver without much more than a half smile from the stoic woman behind the counter.

“You folks picked the wrong time to be visiting, they say it’s one of those hundred year storms, reckon it’s only the beginning,” the older woman behind the desk idly remarked as Oliver stood, water dripping from the tip of his nose as he filled in the guest sheet.

“I don’t mind all that much,” Felicity smiled, her body relaxing into the overwhelming freedom she felt at being so far from everywhere that held vividly cruel memories.  
The older woman’s eyes scoured across the form that Oliver had carefully completed before she slid a key across the heavy oak desk.

“You two are married?” she asked, a slight hint of disbelief caught in her voice.  
“Aye” Felicity replied “nearing a month ago.”  
The woman’s brows furrowed for just a moment before she shook whatever thought it was that had crossed her mind.

“Your room is on the fifth floor, but the elevator don’t work so you’ll need to take the stairs.”  
Felicity tapped Oliver’s arms as she saw his mouth stiffen, she could tell he was thinking something along the lines of _I ain’t surprised._  
“Thank you,” Felicity replied, plucking the small brass key with the heavy wooden tag off the desk.  
“They serve breakfast till nine in the morning and dinner is from six at the restaurant,” a quick nod across the lobby towards the almost empty restaurant.  
“Much obliged,” Felicity smiled, aware of the woman’s sudden interest in Felicity’s coat or the belt that sat around her waist.

Felicity gazed down for a moment before looking back up as the older woman who then snapped her eyes away. With a slightly furrowed brow Felicity cocked her head and followed Oliver towards the stairs.

“I think she thinks I’m pregnant,” Felicity whispered as they reached the first landing of the stairwell.  
Oliver glanced back at the older woman who had been watching them climb the stairs.  
“You reckon she’s going to try and ring our parents?” Oliver scoffed as they kept ascending, disappearing from her view.

“I know we’re young, but I thought California was supposed to be a little more open about things,” Felicity huffed, suddenly annoyed by the various looks they had received since leaving Starling.  
“It’s a different breed of people Felicity,” Oliver huffed as they reached the fourth floor.  
“But I bet they were married even younger, probably to their cousin,” Felicity laughed through a heavy inhale as she lagged a few steps behind.

“Would it be all that bad?” Oliver asked, his mind mulling over something Felicity had said earlier.  
“Marrying your cousin?” Felicity scoffed, “Yes, I think that would be pretty bad.”  
“No, not that,” Oliver laughed as he pushed open the door to the fifth floor with his back, “I mean the pregnant part.”

Felicity sauntered through the door as Oliver braced it open, her eyes watching his intently.  
“You want kids already?” she finally spoke, leaning against the door of their room.  
Oliver’s eyes fell on the next door down where a woman somewhere in her early 30s stood, puffing away on a cigarette. He dropped the bags and took the key from Felicity’s hand, unlocking the door and ushering her in, a sudden surge of ingrained decorum filling him.

“I will never understand why you care so much about what strangers might overhear,” Felicity smiled, swanning around the room as she pushed back the stray wet hairs stuck to her face.  
“I just don’t reckon people ought to know stuff about us,” Oliver huffed, patting off the thick layer of drops caught in the dip of his hat.

“Well now that we’re holed up in here, you can answer the question. Do you want children now?” she asked, a perfectly primped eyebrow raised in Oliver’s direction

“No” he replied with a shrug “Yes. I don’t know. I’m just saying it wouldn’t be that bad and it could happen, seeing as you turned down the prophylactics I got”

“Call them condoms Oliver, no one is here to hear you say it,” she mocked with a broad smile, “and they’re awful, it felt like you were wearing a birthing glove they use in calving, which I personally think it quite ironic.”

Felicity walked to the window, her eyes scanning through the heavy belt of rain across at the rough seas chopping white waves across the horizon. It was nearing 5:30pm and daylight was well and truly fading in the distance.

“So maybe the lady downstairs knows something you don’t yet,” Oliver smiled, wrapping his arms around her waist as he pressed his wet body into hers.  
Felicity unfolded the wrapped belt of her coat and threaded the camel coloured fabric down her shoulders, pulling away from Oliver’s grip momentarily as she hung in over the mounted panel radiator.

She slipped back into his arms, turning in them to face him, their bodies a half a foot apart.  
“I bet she’s expecting us to be committing some terribly wanton acts of debauchery up here Oliver,” Felicity smiled, grazing her fingers across each of his buttons, releasing them as she went.

He captured her lips on his, smoothing the dewy glisten of lingered raindrops against each other, heating the peppered drops between their warm breaths.  
“I love you,” he whispered, his lips tracing each syllable across hers.  
“Show me,” she hummed with a smile, rubbing her nose gently against his cheek.

She arched her back with the slow sensation of Oliver drawing down the tiny zip on her navy blue dress, his middle finger drawing the same line down her spine and leaving a wake of goose bumps behind.

When the zip stopped just below the curve of her lower back, Oliver walked his fingers back up the opened sides of the zipper and slid the heavy cotton fabric off her slender shoulders. He stepped back a foot, his hands still pressed against the round of her shoulders as he watched the dress balloon to the floor.

His tongue danced across the seam of his lips as he watched her – a soft smile growing across her peached lips, tiny strands of wet blonde hair still licked to her face and the dimming light of the day from the window creating a halo around her almost naked body – before he stepped forward, closing the gap between them as his lips thundered down on hers.

She stumbled backwards, hissing at the sudden chill of the window pane against her bare skin. Her teeth snatched his lip, sucking it into her mouth as her hands blindly pushed the sodden shirt from his body.

“Here,” she panted as his lips dropped to her neck, hungrily scouring across her fired skin.  
Her lower back pressed against the wooden window frame, eliciting another low hiss at the sensation.

She twisted her fingers through the buckle of his belt as his hands toyed with the clasp of her rich ivory bra. Moments later her breasts were pressed against his wet chest, her pebbled nipples stiffened against the cold remnants of rain on his skin.

His belt came free in her hands before her fingertips popped the button on his soaked charcoal slacks. His fly gapped open allowing her hand to dive under his briefs, her trimmed nails scratching up his growing shaft in a way she knew would cause him to groan heavily into her shoulder.

Oliver’s kisses became rushed and desperate as they made a skewed path down to her breasts. Felicity mewled against his misted forehead as her fingers coursed up his chest. Her heels, still entrenched in the sensible Mary Janes, clambered against the ripped and worn embossed rose wallpaper as she tried to anchor her body onto the small lip of the windowsill. Her back pressed firmly against the pane of glass, the heavy scourge of rain reverbing down her spine as Oliver’s mouth folded in around her breast, tugging it gently into his mouth, his tongue lapping over her budded nipple as his teeth lightly nicked her skin.

It was only when Oliver flattened his palm against the chilled window that he realised where they were. His hands slipped under her arms, lifting her clean off the sill and depositing her a few feet from the window. Without a word he pulled the dusty brown curtains closed killing the last remnants of the dusk light.

“Oliver, what are you doing?” Felicity quipped, folding her arms across her bare chest.  
“I don’t,” he huffed, aware of the suddenness of his last few actions, “I don’t want people seeing you,” he mumbled.

Felicity dropped her head to her shoulder, shifting her weight from one foot to the other as she took the opportunity to toe off her shoes.  
“Oliver, we’re five storeys up, it’s falling dusk outside and there is a torrential rainstorm, who exactly do you think is watching?”

Oliver ran a heavy hand through his hair, spilling a wave of caught droplets into the air.  
“I don’t rightly know, I just know I don’t like the idea that someone could.”  
“Are you,” she stepped forward and waved a finger over his chest, “are you jealous?”

“I ain’t one for sharing Felicity. I won’t ever look at another woman and I can’t think of anything worse than another man getting to see you,” his eyes drew long strokes down her body as his voice stumbled softly over each word.

“When Ray put his hand on you, it near on killed me.”  
“Oliver he never, I never,” Felicity cooed softly as she stepped closer.  
“I know, this is me just wanting to keep this part of you from the world because I need this all for myself,” he offered a weak smile but his eyes were intense and his brow darkened.  
“I am yours, absolutely every part of me is yours Oliver,” she pressed a tender kiss to his jaw.  
“My love,” she whispered, kissing a hopped path to his ear.  
“My mind,” her lips folded over his lobe.  
“My heart,” her breath warmed his neck, lulling his eyes for a few moments.

She stepped back, her small hands gliding down the curve of her waist and underneath the band of her matching ivory panties. She slipped them over her hips and wiggled her legs until the dropped to the ground.

“And my body,” she smiled, drawing her index finger down the centre of her body – skimming between her breasts and pausing at her navel.  
“It’ll only ever be yours,” she breathed through plump lips, puckered red when her teeth had scraped across the bottom lip.

She reached out for his hand before taking it and leading him to the edge of the bed.  
“Slow but hard,” she requested, pressing his palm into her heaving breast.

So he did.

* * *

  
The lull in the rain was what Oliver saw as their chance so within moments of finishing their lunch at the quaint diner a short two blocks from the hotel, he was pulling Felicity through the roads, down towards the Pier.

The wind was still whipping up white caps across the ocean and despite the inclement weather, a few brave surfers were seen in the distance, nursing their longboards through the choppy waves.

Oliver and Felicity stopped outside the newly opened La Monica Ballroom as the wind swept up a twisted flute of discarded rubbish around their feet. The area was deserted.  
“Oliver I think it’s closed,” Felicity spoke as thick raindrops sporadically fell around them.  
“Why would they close the whole Pier?” Oliver huffed, his eyes searching for any flicker of life.  
“There, the door is open,” Oliver remarked, pointing towards a distant building on the cusp of the boardwalk.  
“I don’t think...” Felicity started to say as Oliver dragged her towards the open door.

The bright lights and mirrors of the beautifully painted carousel met them through the doors. The lights that hung through the red beams danced patterns of colour in scattered directions, reflecting off mirrors and polished silver surfaces.

Felicity had seen many beautiful sights during her time spent in New York, but mixed with the fresh and salty sea air, this was by far one of the most perfect spots.

“I’m sorry folks, we’re closed on account of the storm, they say it’ll be a pretty rough one, they’re shutting the whole place down,” the older man with a name badge that read _Neville_ spoke, his voice heavy with a southern accent that seemed a little out of place in California.  
“Are you sure you can’t make an exception?” Oliver pleaded as the wind whipped up just outside the covered carousel.  
“Oliver it’s fine, let’s just go back to the hotel,” Felicity sighed softly and she threaded her arm through his.  
“This honeymoon isn’t going quite the way I was hoping,” Oliver remarked, smiling a kiss against Felicity’s temple.

“You folks on your honeymoon?” Neville asked, idly rolling his tongue across the inside of his cheek.  
“We are,” Felicity replied with a kindly smile.  
“You seem kind of young to be hitched.”  
“Age is just a number and I’ve known Oliver for most of my life. There was no sense in waiting a moment longer.”

The older man’s face brimmed with a bright smile.  
“You sound just like my wife, being married near on 40 years and she’d say something exactly like that I reckon.”  
“Well your wife sounds very smart Neville, you best hold on to her,” Felicity winked, smoothing her fingers down the crease of Oliver’s elbow “get home safe” she added as she pulled Oliver towards the exit.

“I reckon we can stay open a little longer,” Neville remarked, opening the small wooden gate that lead to the carousel.  
“Neville are you breaking the rules for us?” Felicity laughed, creasing her brow at him.  
“It ain’t right to deny such a nice couple. You hop on while I close up a few other things around the place.”

“Neville you sir are the nicest of gentleman, make sure to tell your wife I said so,” Felicity praised as she slipped a quick kiss against his wrinkled cheek.  
“I’ll be sure to Miss,” Neville replied, dipping his head in a move that was strongly reminiscent of the type Oliver would do.

Felicity mounted a standing white horse with a saddle of greens and blues and a wash of painted grey hair. Oliver opted for the nearby green sleigh pulled by a deep black horse, folding his tall frame into the small confines of the seat.  
  
“You young folks behave, I’ll be back in a few minutes,” Neville smiled with a quick wink of his eye before he rung the heavy brass bell, set the carousel in motion and shuffled off out of sight.

“That will be you in a couple of decades,” Felicity laughed, twisting her body backwards in the blue saddle, her hands gripping the polished brass pole behind her.  
“You think?” Oliver laughed, stretching his legs onto the opposite side of the sleigh.  
Felicity nodded, her tumbled blonde hair bouncing freely around her shoulders.  
“Will you be at home waiting for me?” Oliver asked above the churning music of the carousel.  
“I don’t plan on having anywhere else to be.”

Oliver pressed his body into one side of the sleigh, patting the small space he’d opened up beside him.  
“I like my horse, only a boring fool picks the sleigh,” she mocked, her tongue snatched between her teeth, her blue eyes capturing the lights above them.

Oliver stood up, stepping from the sleigh as the carousel continued to spin, ‘jumper’ horses around them twisting up and down on their poles.  
“What are you doing?” Felicity laughed as Oliver stumbled the short distance between them.

Oliver anchored his palms onto the hind of Felicity’s carved horse and vaulted onto the back, perching his body on the edge.  
“Oliver, you’re breaking the rules,” Felicity laughed as she arched her back into the pole.  
His arms wrapped around her and the twisted pole, pressing their bodies together.  
“What rules? I never heard any” Oliver grinned.

He leaned forward, snatching her lips onto his and leaning his broad chest against her slender frame. She adored the pressure of his body against hers, the way she knew he could so easily overpower her if he wished it, but instead he never touched her with anything other than a loving hand.

Oliver had the ability to be as commandeering and imposing as Ray, but he was far from that. His calloused but strong hands held onto her as though she was a silken rose petal. When they made love he would stroke her face in the most-tender of ways, his first thoughts were always of her.

She bit back against his bottom lip, snagging it gently as her tongue slipped into the warm confines of his mouth. His thumb pressed in against the small of her back, tracing tiny circles there as his breath grew heavy and tempered against her mouth. She rose, just a fraction, off the saddle, rolling her pelvis against his core, gasping at the heavy friction that spilled through her body.

She pulled back from his lips, smiling at the hungry desire caught up in the bright blue of his eye.  
“I’m not wearing any underwear,” she whispered into the crook of his neck before she licked the underside of his jaw and watched his face spark up with the knowledge she had just shared.

His eyes dropped to the hem of the little yellow dress Felicity was wearing under her white peacoat. His tongue walked across his lips as if the hem was teasing or talking to him and he was unable to break from its trance. She could feel his hand twitching behind her before it slid down her side, over the curve of her hip and slowly down her leg.

His large fingers toyed with the delicate scalloped lace hem of the dress, his eyes silently asking her permission before they scoured around the room looking for any other sets of watchful eyes.

He felt his chest constrict as her plush pink lips turned up into an inviting smile. Inch by inch he walked his hand under her dress, relishing the way her skin was so soft, so smooth, under his fingertips. He could almost feel her tempered heat as his hand approached her apex.

He nearly groaned audibly when his fingertips melted into her folds, not a scrap of fabric between them.  
“I told you,” she whispered in his ear, her breath pushing the words into his neck.

His index finger slid up her folds, rolling across her bundled nerves and pulling a heavenly sigh from her sinful lips.

Oliver’s chest grew heavy with his own panted breath as he eased a finger around her entrance, swimming in her dewy heat.  
“We need to go,” he said with a clenched jaw.  
“But our ride isn’t over,” she grinned playfully as she leaned back against the pole, pushing her sex into his feathered fingers.  
“We need to go now, I need to. You,” he huffed, failing to making full sentences.

Without waiting for her to reply he slipped off the horse and pulled her down from the same. Gripping her hand tightly in his he ran towards the exit, the music still twinging in the background, the carousel moving empty around its tracks.

Felicity caught sight Neville out of the corner of her eye as he ventured back into the space.  
“Thank you,” she called backwards, waving her hand kindly.

The rain had started again and it fell heavily onto them as they broke out of the hippodrome and into the fresh, stark air. Felicity stopped, the wind whipping up her dress and hair, the heavy rain drops tarnishing the fabric of her dress.

“I want to be adventurous Oliver,” she smiled, anchoring her feet to the ground.  
Her request was met with a confused brow and narrowed eyes.  
“I want to show you that I’ll be yours wherever we are.”  
“Felicity,” he sighed, gazing up at the rain as it blanketed them.  
“I want it Oliver.”  
Oliver’s jaw flexed as he felt his growing erection, her request was equal parts maddening and exhilarating.

He barely flinched as the rain got heavier, his eyes concentrating on the area around them. When his eyes tracked onto the beach a smile sprung up on his lips. Thunder clapped through the darkening sky around them as he once again pulled her through the storm, their clothes becoming drenched and glued to their bodies.

Their feet hit the sand, sinking into the wet grains, imprinting their hurried steps as Oliver headed towards the sheltered patch of ground under the Pier which was lined with heavy concrete pillars.

The rain stopped its scourge of their bodies instantly as they stumbled under the Pier, the boardwalk suspended a few more feet above Oliver’s head. He pushed her hungrily against the nearest pillar, hiking her body up the cold concrete without giving her a moment to adjust to the suddenness of it.

His lips snapped hers up, tiny droplets of water running trails across their faces, swerving and rising over their cheeks as their noses pushed together, allowing their lips to greedily devour each other.

There was something exciting and invigorating to Felicity to watch Oliver’s eyes give away the argument he was having with himself as his hands ravished her body, massaging in against the underside of her pert breasts. She could tell he needed her, but the challenge she had laid down to him to have her here, in the open, was playing at his core.

She was growing more incorrigible by the day, finding her desires and pushing the limits that she felt were unfairly imposed on them. Years of sermons at boarding school about how marital relations were only for the purposes of procreation had her desperate to rebel against them.

This was her _awakening_.  
This was for every stoutly frigid generation before them.  
This was for every lingered sinful thought she had ever had about Oliver.

“Here?” Oliver rasped as the rough waters crashed against the next pillars down from them, echoing through the space around them.  
“Here,” she smiled, her fingers tugging on his sodden pants.

As if to assure himself of the moment, his hand slipped up her dress again, the chiffon now heavy with water that coursed down the back of his palms as he bunched up the fabric. His fingers slipped in between her thighs, his mouth gaping once more as he found her exposed sex.

“You will be the death of me,” he whispered into her neck, his lips drinking in the pooled drops of water found there.  
“I hope to be,” Felicity gingerly replied, climbing her legs up his waist.

Oliver massaged his large palm into her breast, nipping his teeth into the curve of her neck as his other fingers slipped into her entrance, pushing a heated exhale from her pouted lips and feathering a spray of steam into the chilled air.

It was only a few moments later that Oliver had buried his throbbing cock deep inside her, filling her completely and causing her nails to grip feverishly into his shoulders. Her body grazed against the unrelenting cold of the concrete he had her pinned against and the rain had tilted its angle somewhat, now spilling random drops against them.

He moved fast, sliding in and out of her body, relishing the sensation of her clamping her walls around his cock. He held himself back from tearing at her dress as his mouth sucked in over the peak of her breast, flicking her hardened nipple through the wisp of wet fabric that lay pasted across it.

There was no time to be wasted in appreciating each other as they normally did, but they finished in sync, breathless, wet and heavy with the realisation that they had broken what was a stiffly entrenched taboo.

“Are you okay?” Oliver puffed, milking the last remaining remnants of his release before pulling out and lowering Felicity’s legs gently to the ground.  
Felicity smiled, folding down the hem of her yellow dress and smoothing it down her legs.

She was blushing something fierce and her heart was threatening to break through her chest as she nodded her answer.

She was absolutely more than _okay_ and the beaming smile and rolling thoughts of the nuns at boarding school had her smiling on the inside too.

* * *

  
Over the next five days the storm barely let up. The streets ran heavy with rivers of rain water and the tide almost submerged the entire shoreline. Oliver and Felicity spent much of what would be considered the day running from awning to awning, through the nearby streets garnering strange looks from those refusing to venture very far outside.

They dried their clothes as best they could on the creaking radiator heater when the afternoons began to fall and warmed themselves in the small cubicle shower. The evenings were spent in the company of the different characters that gathered in the rustic and outdated restaurant. The food was verging on terrible but the company was something worth a dry steak and sloppy potatoes.

Harold, a business man from somewhere south of Wyoming always wore his best tweed dinner jacket and insisted that, despite his small 5ft 2 height and slender frame, that he could drink Oliver under the table. He would appear at their table with a new embossed silver flask every night, watching with suspicious eyes anyone who happened to glance over.

Around his fourth drink he would stand, declare Oliver a man of great substance, leave a cigar – despite Oliver telling him he didn’t smoke – and politely excuse himself. They would find out at their check out that Harold had paid for their entire stay.

It had been later their second night that they had first heard the name of the guest staying in the room next to theirs. The paper thin hotel walls and her male companion’s excitable nature has roused Felicity and Oliver with heavy thumps against the wall opposite their bed and the cries of a man that seemed to be in simultaneous amounts of pleasure and pain.

Felicity has listened with an unwavering grin as Oliver had tired to bury his head between his pillows. It had gone on for an almost impossible amount of time but once it had stopped Felicity had considered waiting in the hall to catch a glimpse of the man who was undoubtedly not shy with his commendation of _Gracie fucking Gracie._

When the night had turned quiet Felicity had realised she was well and truly awake. After picking her nails reluctantly and then staring out the dark window for some time, she decided to walk the halls to try and lull her brain back to sleep.

It had been on her third lap of the deserted floor that _Gracie_ had stepped out from the next room, leaned up against the door and lit a cigarette.  
“You’re next door aren’t you?” she had asked as Felicity walked past.  
Felicity nodded, pausing her walk for a moment.  
“You two are adorable, straight from a movie.”  
Felicity had smiled at what she took to be a compliment.  
“Are you running away from strict parents who’ll see you married off to some much wealthier man?”  
Felicity let the threads of truth in that statement sink in before she had spoke up.  
“Just on our honeymoon.”

“Hmmmm, well I’ll need something more dramatic than that.”  
“I’m sorry, I don’t understand.”  
“Where are my manners my mother would say. The name is Grace Hunt, I’m a novelist, I write stories for the bored housewives of the world so they can dream about banging a man that ain’t their overweight husbands.”  
“Oh.”  
“The moment I saw the two of you I knew there would be a story in there, the roguishly handsome fella with a girl who, if I’m not mistaken, comes from money.”  
“Is it that obvious?” Felicity asked, wrapping her arms around her slender waist.  
“You walk on the balls of your feet and with you chin slightly raised,” she smiled as she tapped the underside of her own chin with a painted red nail, “privately schooled if I’m not mistaken.”

“You’re not,” Felicity cracked a small smile.  
“Please tell me the two of you have known each other since you were children.”  
Felicity leaned back onto the opposite wall and laughed.  
“Dear God, you two are perfect literature, I need to hear this story.”  
Felicity hugged her body tighter as she rolled her lips over the invitation.  
“I’ll share if you tell me what you were doing to that man you had in there,” she smiled, her curiosity getting the best of her.

“Oh honey,” Grace laughed, tapping another cigarette from her box and offering it to Felicity.  
“I don’t smoke,” Felicity kindly responded.  
“Well you will need one after this.”

The friendship blossomed as Felicity regaled Grace with a cliff notes version of the moments that lead Felicity and Oliver to the here and now during late nights huddled in the hallway or around the coffee table in the small hotel room that Grace called home. Grace drank up the story with vigour taking moments to scribble notes on a worn leather notepad before letting Felicity continue.

In return Grace, a woman who was unafraid of the looks her _free_ lifestyle garnered her, told Felicity a raft of sexually liberating propaganda. Ideas that were truly an _awakening_. And, as promised, Felicity had learned in particular the specifics of what had caused a grown man to make the noises that had woken Felicity that second evening in California.

Grace was most certain that the New Year would ring in a revolution, where woman could freely ask for what they wanted, what they enjoyed, and would not be judged on such a thing. The idea of it fascinated Felicity, more so because of the enthralling way the decade-older woman told it. On the last night Grace presented Felicity with a few of her “pornocrasy” (as the critics called them) novels and a promise to write Felicity’s story one day.

Felicity for her part left with a head full of ideas.

* * *

  
“I’ll miss you,” Felicity whispered into Oliver’s chest as they stood embracing on the train station platform.  
“Enjoy the train home,” he smiled the words into her crown, kissing the soft bounce in her hair.

The storm had waned somewhat and the first rays of sun were piercing through the heavy clouds, in what seemed like an attempt to shine directly down on the two embracing lovers.  
“How can I if you’re not with me?” she huffed indignantly.  
Oliver pulled her back, peppering her blushed cheeks with loving kisses.  
“Just try to. You need to board now,” he breathed, kissing her lips softly as he savoured the taste of her.

“I’ll be home in a week,” he sighed as she stepped back, letting just her hand linger in his.  
“I’ll be waiting for you,” she sniffed, wiping back a stray tear that sprung from her clouded blue eyes.  
Oliver plucked his hat from his head and nestled onto Felicity’s, smiling at the way it sunk over much of her forehead.  
“Keep it, so you know a part of me is with you.”  
Felicity danced a delicate finger along the rim of the hat, the gesture might not have seemed like much to anybody else but to Felicity it meant the world. His hat was an extension of him, like a limb that went almost anywhere he did. It felt like him, it smelled like him, it was a part of who Oliver was and he handed that to her without restraint or regret.

“Oliver, I...” she stumbled over words to express the meaning of the gesture, so instead she kissed him, hard, and told him without words exactly what his gesture meant to her.  
“I love you,” he ghosted the words over her lips.  
“Forever,” she hummed back, before stepping away once more.

Their hands held on until just their fingers joined them. Another step saw her fingers slip from his as she boarded the train and headed towards the compartment that would be her lonely home for the next two days.... or so she thought.

“Surprise,” came the exclamation as Felicity opened the compartment door.  
“Macie?! What are you doing here?”  
“I’ve been in Hollywood for a week or so when Oliver called, said you would love some company.”  
“He did?”  
“I swear that boy loves you like you were made just for him.”  
Felicity stepped to the window, her face lighting up as she saw Oliver standing there with his own broad smile. She pressed her fingers to her quivering lips as the train started to roll away from the platform. Releasing her fingers she blew him a kiss and mouthed I love you. Both acts Oliver mirrored in turn.

* * *

  
“Will you be returning to New York?” Felicity asked as the two girls stepped back into their compartment after eating a light dinner in the dining cart.  
“After I spend a few days with you, I’ll take the long train ride back there.”  
“You don’t need to-“  
“Hush, there is nothing more to be said about it,” Macie smiled as she pulled down a small duffle bag and laid it on the seat before pulling closed the curtain across the small window in the door.

“What of Ray?” Felicity asked, chewing the corner of her lips.  
“Don’t give that man any more of your time,” Macie replied anxiously.  
“Macie please, tell me what you know.”  
Macie huffed as she pulled a heavy silver flask from her bag and placed it on the table between them.  
“I hear he’s turning State witness.”  
Felicity pressed her back into the chair, sinking into the red velvet as she nervously touched her hands to her hair.  
“So he could get out soon?”  
“I don’t think you should be dwelling on him when you have better things in your life.”  
“That he could come and-“  
“Felicity don’t,” Macie interrupted pulling two tin mugs from the same duffle bag, “You know him better than I do, but even I know Oliver wouldn’t let anything happen to you, don’t let Ray define parts of your life. He’s not worth it, let him be like dust you blow off something old, don’t let him settle on it.”

“When did you get so smart?”  
Macie shrugged with a smile as she cracked the lid on the flask and poured the cloudy liquid into the two mugs.  
“Is that alcohol?” Felicity asked, her nose catching the scent of the elixir for just a moment.  
“The finest you can buy in the back streets,” Macie winked, sliding a mug over to Felicity.  
Felicity stared down at it for a moment before a smile crept onto her face and she wrapped her slender fingers around the mug and pulled it up to her lips.

“Cheers,” Macie said as she raised her mug.  
“To friends and storms and dust,” Felicity replied, tapping her mug against the lip of Macie’s.

They both drunk at least half the contents of the biting liquor that had likely been mixed up in some back room bathtub, before Macie refilled the cups and gave another wink.

“How about we change the topic,” Macie smiled, taking a long drink of the potent elixir in her mug “how is married life?”  
Felicity nodded, Macie’s swift topic change was a welcomed one.  
“Being married to Oliver is perfect,” Felicity replied softly, the word _perfect_ laced with absolute truth – she couldn’t imagine a time where being married to him was anything but _perfect._

“And the sex?”  
Felicity wasn’t surprised by the question and simply rolled her eyes that it had taken Macie this long to bring up sex.  
“Does it ever get boring, just being with the one man?”  
“Have you seen Oliver?” Felicity quipped, blushing at the memories of the very active sex life they had been enjoying, including the one time in the train compartment not dissimilar to this one, “I don’t think I could ever bore of that man.”

“Well I wouldn’t be much of a woman if I _hadn’t_ noticed him,” Macie winked.  
It was clearly said in jest and there wasn’t even half a moment that Felicity took it to be anything else.

Felicity took a long sip, her eyes rolling back with the biting heat scouring her throat as the alcohol moved down it.  
“He’s very inventive,” she laughed, feeling the heat of the very strong alcohol pulsing in her chest.  
“I knew that boy had a wild side beneath that accent and that weathered hat of his,” Macie giggled, pressing her heated cheek against the cool of the table.

“Mmmhmm,” Felicity hummed “he likes to watch, like I’m on stage.”  
Macie looked up with glazed eyes and a huge smirk.  
“That man is a keeper.”

Felicity took another drink before setting the mug back down onto the table, turning it around on the spot by the handle.  
“I hope he doesn’t bore of me,” she sighed, suddenly feeling a wave of inadequacy – Oliver knew what he liked, Oliver came up with most of the ideas, Felicity was new to her sexual side and while she happily – _very happily_ – went along with his suggestions, she wasn’t really sure she had had any particularly inventive ones aside from the spur of the moment decision under the Pier.

“Oh honey, you have all the bits he’s looking for, men have short memories, they don’t need inventive.” Macie quipped tapping her red nail across the rough oak table, “you just show him that ass of yours every once and a while and you have that boy for life. Guaranteed,” she slurred.

“He has a fantastic penis,” Felicity remarked casually as she dipped her finger into the mug coating it in the liquor before pressing the same finger through her pouted lips, “It’s huge and he’s very good with it.”

Macie sat upright a shocked look pressed into her lips and her eyes sprung wide open.  
“Felicity Megan Smoak, I’m both excited and horrified by your honesty right now.”  
Felicity realised, with her hand cupped to her mouth, the forwardness of her previous remarks.

“Don’t tell him I said that,” she pleaded, throwing back another drink.  
“I’m sure he’ll be flattered.”  
“Oliver likes to keep that sort of thing just between us.”  
“While I’m practically considered a member of your family.”

Felicity shrugged, honestly she didn’t really care and in fact a few more drinks in her she might just start extolling his assets and bedroom habits throughout the entire train.

“I just want to surprise him with something when he gets back, really blow his mind.”  
“So blow his..” Macie winked, holding her fisted hand up to her cheek.  
“I’ve already done that, in Ray’s parents’ house,” Felicity replied with a soft shrug like it was nothing.

Macie spat out the gin that was brimming like hot coals in her mouth as she choked through a laugh.  
“Will wonders never cease, I was not expecting that.”  
“Downtown is a two way street,” Felicity tried to say with a straight face, failing miserably after the second word.  
“What about outside, nothing like being naked in nature,” Macie smiled.  
“We can’t do that where we live, I’m pretty sure the owner’s wife has a thing for Oliver, she sits outside always watching over to the cottage.”  
“Maybe she has a thing for you. Older woman are very repressed Felicity.”

The two friends burst out laughing at the thought of the land owner’s 50-something church-going wife having immoral thoughts about Felicity.

“We best not laugh too loud, the porter will come around knocking and I’m in no fit state to appropriately be answering questions,” Felicity snorted before pushing her mug back across the table at Macie.

Without the need for further instruction Macie took the mug and filled it halfway before sliding it back across the table, sploshing a path on the wooden table.

“You know I met this lady at the hotel, she told me about a raft of new things, gave me some books she wrote too,” Felicity fumbled through her bag before finding the novels and handing them to Macie.  
“You met Grace Hunt?” Macie exclaimed.  
“Mmmhumm,” Felicity slurred, “she told me a lot, A LOT of things.”  
“Like?”  
“Have you ever...” Felicity paused, looking around the room before she leaned in, Macie leaning in to meet her despite there being no one else around, “have you ever let a man turn you around?”  
“No!” Macie squealed, “but I’ve always wanted to.”  
“Grace told me that it’s a whole different experience, that even though you can’t see their eyes, it’s a new level of intimacy because they have so much power over you.”

Macie fanned her hand rapidly next to her cheek.  
“Are you...” she stopped, the question needing no more words.  
Felicity snagged her bottom lip between her teeth scourging it red for a moment as her eyes widened.  
“I was thinking about it, Grace said it was something every women should try, but sober so she can make sure it goes in the right place,” Felicity giggled, the alcohol clearly playing a role.

“You know I reckon if Oliver came home and you were wearing his hat,” Macie started fulling her own mug up, “and _only_ his hat, that would be about the best thing he will have ever seen.”  
Felicity let her fingers walk unsteadily around the rim of the weathered hat a smile peeking over her lips. She could see Oliver’s eyes already, perhaps she would present him with more than just his hat, perhaps she would offer him a new level of trust... _an awakening of his own._

* * *

  
**14 December 1924**

Oliver stepped through the door of the dark cottage. It was late, near on 10pm when John had dropped him at the start of the driveway a few minutes ago and Oliver had taken the short walk illuminated by the full moon up to the cottage he shared with Felicity.

He had hoped she would still be awake and waiting for him so he could spend uncountable minutes studying ever inch of her face that he felt he hadn’t seen in an excruciatingly long time. He wanted to smell the fresh apple scent of her hair. He wanted to taste the rich plumpness of her bottom lip and he wanted to watch her suck it in staining it red for a time.

He missed everything about her and his heart sunk a little when he noticed the darkness of the cottage.

It wasn’t until he stepped inside that he noticed the low flicker of the light coming from the bedroom, the door barely cracked open.  
“Felicity?” he asked softly as he placed his suitcase on the table, his smaller bag still slung over his shoulder.

No response came as he walked closer to the door, steadied his palm on it and lightly pushed it open. The soft flickering of the orange light drew his attention first, it was from small gas lantern atop a table placed specifically in the middle of the room. It took him a moment longer to see the shadowed figure sitting in an armchair behind the light, it’s rich orange hues dancing up legs he knew the instant he saw them.

His eyes walked over her legs, slowly realising that he hadn’t seen a scrap of fabric yet. Her legs were crossed at the knees, one foot slowly rocking at the ankle, leading to richly shadowed thighs.

“Fe-li-city,” he breathed as his eyes followed the silhouette of her waist.  
He felt his mouth dry and his breath stop mid inhale as his eyes caught the soft lines of her breasts.  
“Welcome home Oliver,” Felicity whispered, switching her legs, tapping the other foot against the leg of the small armchair tucked into the corner of the room.

Oliver’s eyes snapped upwards at the heavenly familiarity of her tone. He realised in that moment he had missed the way she said his name the most.

He opened his mouth to speak but his jaw locked when he saw the only thing that could be considered clothing. Perched atop her beautiful blonde locks that spilled onto her naked chest was a hat, _his_ hat.  
He’d never in his life seen something so instantly arousing that blood from every limb immediately rushed to his cock and all he could say was a very heavily mumbled “Shit”  
“I missed you,” she spoke softly as she rose off the chair and stepped closer to the dim light.

Oliver watched, his tongue lapping across his lips, as the hue of orange bent over her soft curves, almost glowing over her milky complexion. He couldn’t form words as he lunged forward and took her into his arms, her silken skin like the softest of healing salves to his fiery hands that had become desperate to touch her.

He mumbled only her name as his hands scattered across her body, eager to touch every inch and unsure where to start. His lips found her neck, her sweet, scented neck. He cursed under his breath at the raging pressure building between his legs. He had dreamed on the train ride home of kissing her slowly the first time they were reunited. He had dreamed about taking his time to lie with her. Kissing her with lingered kisses. Tasting her slowly as she lay open to him on their bed. But now he knew he couldn’t survive any of that. He needed to be inside her. Now.

He tore down his pants as his lips captured hers, his tongue instantly forging into her mouth, his voice emitting a low growl at the warmth of its confines.

His hands ravaged her body, one palm massaging into her breast as his other trekked between her folds. He almost hissed with pleasure when her wetness coated his fingers.

“Felicity, I can’t wait,” he murmured as he kissed her, his heavy warm breath spilling into her mouth.  
“Then don’t,” she replied, tipping the edge of his hat.  
“God dammit,” he exclaimed, running his hands heavily down the arch of her back till they locked in around her smooth and full ass.  
His low hums of pleasure spiked against Felicity’s blazed skin, the heavy iron stove in the kitchen still roaring away to ensure Felicity wouldn’t freeze as she waited naked for Oliver.

He lifted her but unlike the times before her legs did not slip around his waist.  
“No, here,” she sighed, caving her neck to the side as his lips danced over it, her foot tapping the chair behind them.

“Oliver,” she licked his name over his chest as she pulled his shirt off his body.  
“I want to try something,” she stepped backwards, kneeling on the padded suede seat.  
The dim light caught her smile as she took the hat from her head and hooked it over the corner of the wingback chair.

She took a few small breaths to steady her raging pulse as she turned in the chair, one hand pressing into the armrest and the other slung over the back of the chair. She saw Oliver’s shadow grow larger on the planked wall as he stepped closer. She swallowed a hitched breath as she felt a solitary finger slide slowly down her spine.

She anchored one foot to the ground and arched her body upwards as his hand travelled the smooth round of her ass. She rested her cheek to her shoulder as her eyes blinked quickly at him.  
“Come closer. Put your hands on me,” she whispered with a shaky voice.  
Oliver never asked for clarity as he did just as she asked, his throbbing cock drawing up between her thighs and his chest pressed to her back as one hand feathered a touch over her breast, the other palming down her stomach till it rested on her mound, his long fingers reaching in between her brimming heat.

Felicity blew out a hot wave of air as she relished the way his fingers enticed her. Her hips lifted, pushing her ass against his chiselled chest. Her hand came down from the back of the chair and hesitantly reached between her legs, lightly grazing his fingers that roamed there.

Reaching between her legs further she caught his shaft, her thumb circling the tip as he hummed his pleasure into the kisses he was trailing across her naked shoulder.

“Love me this way,” she pleaded as she tipped her hips once more and rubbed the head of his cock over her entrance.  
“Felicity,” he sighed her name as his tongue drew the letters on her shoulder.  
“Have you before?” she asked, hoping for one answer but preparing for the other.  
“No,” he smiled into her sweat-tempered neck.  
He let his body ease up where she guided him, lingering at the precipice of her wet entrance.  
“Love me like this,” she panted softly, her moist lips sticking over each word “love me in a new way for both of us.

She adjusted, rolling her hips, as her hand guided him into her body. She gasped at the pressure that swelled around her walls as she drunk in the heavy groans of pleasure that she was eliciting from Oliver.

Oliver thrust slowly upwards feeling the gripping of her walls as tightly as the hand that held him there. She had always been tight around him, as if his body was made to fit snuggly inside her, but this angle gave him so much more intensity within that sensation.

His lips moved across her naked back, his eyes hypnotized by the way the light danced over it. His hand toyed with her nipple, tweaking it between his thumb and forefinger as he felt himself slip deeper inside her and her body arching to allow him.

His other hand stimulated her sex, rolling a thumb over her clit to summon quick moans from her pouted lips.

The sensation of his cock filling her and her body caving in tightly around him as he played with her bundled nerves was pulling delighted pants and mewls from her deep recesses as she dripped his name from her lips, coaxing him in deeper and begging for him to comply.

He pushed in further, letting his tip roll over a spot inside her that made her cry out in pleasure.  
“Harder,” she urged, desperate to offer him her entire body in whichever way her wanted.

He pulled back, nipping his teeth into her shoulder to watch the excited expression spring onto her face before he pushed back in, riding her body upwards with the momentum.

In and out he moved slowly but deeply, his fingers quickening their pace – flicking and rolling and toying with her till her whole body cried out at the sheer pleasure of it.

She bent forward, using her own body to push him in deeper and rolling her hips to ensure his cock slid heavily against each wall. Her grip tightened into the armrest as Oliver’s sunk in around her breast and his lips locked in on the thumping pulse point under her jaw.

Felicity let go first, crying out his panted name amidst tantric moans. Her released warmed his shaft as he used the slick coating to speed up the frictionless pace. He mumbled sounds into her skin as he powered himself deeper and faster inside her until he too came with a heavy force, his release shooting into her.

“Shit,” he cursed into her shoulder, kissing it feverishly, “Shit, I missed you.”  
She smiled dropping her chin to her chest as he slowly moved in and out, her walls in a tight spasm around him.

That had been like no other time. The idea that he had shared a first with her made her cheeks blush a fiercely happy shade of pink.

“I love you,” she sighed though a soft, happy tone.  
“I love you,” he moaned before licking his tongue across the light smattering of beaded sweat that was glimmering on her shoulder blades.

All Felicity could think of at that moment was one word to sum up their lives together so far. One very simple word that just slipped from her lips like the sweetest morning dew “ _Awakening_ ”

* * *

  
**29 January 1925**

It was a Thursday and Felicity found herself tapping her foot impatiently waiting for Oliver to return from the Ranch. He had spent most of the month, despite the blanketing of snow and the brisk mountain temperatures, busy at the building sites, attempting to do as much as possible to be ready when the weather cleared in a month or so.

She stopped tapping for a moment and nipped at the corner of her thumbnail.  
_Why wasn’t he home yet?_  
A moment later the door opened and Felicity bound off the chair, ran across the room and fell into Oliver’s arms.

“Did you see the doctor?” Oliver asked, anxiously folding his hand through her loosely curled hair.  
She nodded against his chest.  
Felicity had spent the last few weeks violently ill in the mornings and anytime Oliver cooked beef, ironic given her life-long affiliation with cattle. She had become faint in the evenings and had found her strength wavering at even the simplest of tasks.

Oliver had begged her to go to the doctor, worried she had come down with something like Polio which was sweeping across the country.  
“Is it bad?” he asked dubiously as his arms held her tighter.  
She shook her head against his chest.  
“Felicity,” he sighed, pulling her back to see her face.

“What is it?” he asked, expecting the worst.  
She folded her lips inward and took a sharp inhale and a slow exhale.  
“Oliver, I’m pregnant,” she replied, a small smile fluttering across her lips as she blinked up at him.  
“You’re,” he started, dropping a hand from her shoulder.  
“Pregnant,” he sighed, running that hand down his jaw.  
Felicity nodded slowly.  
“The doctor offered me the mice test, but I can’t see to killing all those mice to confirm what I’m almost certain is true,” she stepped back and placed a hand on her slightly swollen stomach.

“How far along?”  
“Near on two months as best I can figure, the doctor agrees, probably happened sometime mid December. But we won’t know for sure until later.”  
Felicity watched as Oliver walked circles around the kitchen.  
“Are you happy with this? Is this okay?” she whispered, worry working lines across her forehead.

Oliver stopped pacing circles, his eyes falling directly onto Felicity’s. He took two determined steps towards her and placed a gentle hand on her stomach, blinking down briefly before coming to lock on her eyes once more. He kissed each cheek and then her lips before he lifted her clear into the air.

“You’re pregnant,” he smiled, a little quiver in his voice.  
Felicity nodded quickly.  
“This is about the best thing I’ve ever heard,” he exclaimed, a happy tear springing from his eye as he spun her around, just the tips of her toes skimming the ground.

Felicity’s faced relaxed as she saw the joy coursing across Oliver’s expression. This was another path for them, one she had naïvely not envisioned so soon but one she knew absolutely that they would thrive through.

Whatever was to come, they would always face it together.  
She didn’t need an awakening to see that.  
She knew that in the depth of her soul.


	4. Lightning Crashes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First... it must be said that I do not agree with much of the prenatal/birth care alluded to in this story, but I have read more 1920s 'birthing' books than I thought I ever needed to in order to be as historically correct as I could.
> 
> If it seems out of date and a little strange, that is because it was. I'm very well aware things have changed since this time (very well).
> 
> I just felt it necessary to assure you I'm not that out of touch ;)

 

**May 1925**

Felicity moaned sweetly, her rich tone filling the dimly lit bedroom as the orange-hued light from the lantern flickered across the ceiling beams above. Her fists twisted in the sheets, Oliver’s name dripping slowly from her slightly puckered lips. Each breathy whimper she made stirred Oliver on as he ran a tempered finger through her folds, his tongue gently caressing her clit and his free hand stroking down her side, pausing at her hip to steady the slow rock she had absently adopted.

“Oliver,” she hummed his name as he weaved his tongue around her bundled nerves.  
He raised his head, blowing dewy breaths against her heat as his fingers spread her lips open.  
“Yes my love?” he spoke as he licked his lips, relishing the taste of her spread across them.  
“Don’t stop,” she pleaded, digging her bare heel into the base of his spine, egging him on.

Oliver smiled, watching the flickering light scatter over her milky skin which was dusted with a thin veil of perspiration. His eyes fell onto the beautifully burgeoning stomach that lay somewhere around 5 months. It was a small rise, her skin pulled taunt across it, just the start of the cutest little popped-out navel that made Oliver gush with pride. If it were possible she looked even prettier to him with each passing day, today was no exception.

“You don’t want me to stop?” he asked, skating his fingers over her pregnant stomach.  
She shook her head almost violently against the fluffed up pillow.  
“Please,” she huffed before tugging her lip into her mouth and biting it softly.  
Oliver laid his palm onto her stomach, wishing to enjoy it just a moment longer when a rolling sensation moved under it.  
“What was that?” he asked as his mouth kissed a path down to her mound.  
“Nothing, just indigestion, it’s been happening on and off for a couple of weeks,” she muttered, stroking a hand through his hair as her other hand clutched at the bedsheets.

Oliver’s tongue delved back between her folds, his palm still rested on her stomach with his thumb stroking idle and soft lines back and forth.

She tipped her hips, letting his other hand slip underneath her. His thumb pressed into the rim of her tempered entrance, teasing it with a slow rhythm that he matched with heavy rolls of his tongue against her clit.

A second jolt resonated across her stomach onto his flattened palm, followed in quick succession by a third and a fourth.

Instantly Oliver pulled back, stumbling off the foot of the bed, his eyes rampant with an expression that said _that was not indigestion._  
“Felicity that, I think,” he stammered, now acutely aware of their stark nakedness.  
Felicity sat up on her elbows, looking at Oliver with perplexed brows.  
“I don’t understand,” she quipped, laying her palm on the same spot where Oliver’s had been moments before, “it’s just stomach rumbles.”  
Her belly became still like calmed water.  
“Felicity, that was a definite kick.”  
As his low voice bounced through the room Felicity felt the same sudden jolt.

She smiled brightly, finally realising she had felt their baby jostling around occasionally for a few weeks now, but had not, until now, realised it or ever felt it from the outside.

Oliver collected Felicity’s night robe from the floor where he had thrown it sometime before and handed it to her.  
“Wait, we’re stopping?” she asked, sitting fully upright with her back pressed against the headboard.  
“He’s awake,” Oliver replied, hurrying to replace his underwear as though he had someplace else to be at that very moment.  
“Or she; and so?” Felicity chuckled, balling the night robe Oliver had passed her into a small bundle between her hands.  
“We can’t keep going.”  
“Why? I hardly think it matters, it’s not like the baby can see.”  
“It just feels,” he paused, flopping down on the edge of the bed beside her, “wrong.”  
“Sex with your pregnant wife is wrong you say?” she pouted, running her trimmed nails down his spine in a way that she knew would elicit a heavy sigh of pleasure from him.

“Don’t you be putting words in my mouth Felicity.”  
“Well I was pretty set on your mouth being elsewhere,” she replied, cocking her head to one side with a coy smirk.  
Oliver twisted his head over his shoulder to look at her, his grin filling the whole lower half of his face and radiating in his irises.  
“You said you’ve felt that before?”  
“It hasn’t ever been that strong, but a couple of time last week and a few this” she scrunched her nose up, aware this was information she hadn’t shared with Oliver and that he looked a little saddened by that “I just thought I ate something that wasn’t agreeing with me.”

“You haven’t been reading those books your Mam got for you?” Oliver asked nodding towards the pile of four books heaped up on the nightstand.  
“Well I started to, but the men that wrote them are something else again. The _renowned,_ ” she said, her tongue dripping with sarcasm, “Dr Kellogg suggested that if I get a little hysterical, whatever that means, that you best restrain me. I mean, what kind of nonsense is that?” she huffed before kissing a soft trail across Oliver’s broad shoulder.

Oliver leaned forward and collected the book at the top of the pile.  
“Restraining aside, don’t you think you ought to read them?”  
“No, they’re designed to make women paranoid, plus this one,” she picked up the third one down, “spends the first half telling me how wrong sex is, so I don’t tend to care too much about what the other half says.”

Oliver thumbed through the book in his hands, leafing through section after section, reading the chapters out loud as Felicity pressed her naked chest into his back, her sensitive nipples like fire against the smooth crest of his shoulder blade.

He stopped somewhere around the middle, his eyes tracking across the page.  
“This one says you shouldn’t be bathing in the lake Felicity, or actually at all,” he spoke cautiously as his eyes continued to read the small passage, “it says you ought to be sponge bathing.”  
“Oh won’t the old biddy next door enjoy that,” Felicity hummed as she stroked her tongue up his neck  
Oliver rolled his neck in submissions to the soft caress of her tongue, her sexual appetite had become almost insatiable in the last month.  
“Put the book down Oliver,” she whispered as her chin nestled into the crook of his neck and her breath pressed against his ear.  
“This part suggests that you lay out in the sun more.”  
“Put the book down,” she hissed with a smile before she plucked it from his hands and threw it to the floor, the spine sending a heavy thud resonating off the walls.

“It’s cruel to leave a girl unfulfilled,” she pouted, sliding one hand down the ripples of his chest and delving it under the waistband of his briefs.

Oliver’s eyes rolled backwards, his eye lids growing heavy as Felicity ran her small, but firm hand along the length of his shaft. His lips felt suddenly parched and his tongue swiped a moist relief across them. For all his bravado and the way in which he could quietly carry himself with the most rugged of men, it was nothing by a thin façade for Felicity. She was his everything and without exception he rightly knew that whatever she asked of him he would gladly offer up.

Tonight was, once again, no exception to that rule.

He twisted on the bed, his lips capturing hers with a low and ravenous hum.  
“I swear to god,” he pressed a gentle second kiss to her lips before pulling away again, his eyes burrowing into hers as she leaned back onto her elbows, “do you have any idea how much control you have over me,” he ghosted each word over her lips.

She shrugged playfully, “I’m somewhat aware.”  
He kissed her again, sighing a lingered breath into her mouth as her tongue gently rippled over his bottom lip.  
His fingers slowly dripped down her naked body, eliciting amorous mewls against his lips in response. He drunk in each sound she made with his vivid enjoyment caught in his eyes. The pleasured responses she gave him were like music to his ears and there was nothing more primal and satisfying to Oliver than to watch Felicity come undone for him and him alone.

His index finger ran down her slit, coating it in a tempered fresh dew that he was not surprised to find. She almost giggled out the heavy sigh that passed over her lips as Oliver dipped his coated finger inside her. He watched her closely as her head hung back, the blissful scent of her neck misting into Oliver’s senses.

Oliver peppered his warm mouth against her elongated neck as his finger pumped in and out, a light thumb print rounding over her sensitive clit “Do you want me to...”

His words were halted within a second of the sharp and sudden bolt felt against his forearm that was pressed in against her stomach.

“Shit, I cant,” he stammered, literally throwing himself backwards, “is it even safe?”  
He didn’t wait for a response but instead picked up the book Felicity had banished to the floor and continued to thumb through the pages.  
“You know it says here we ought suspend sexual indulgence because of the injurious influences on the child of the gratification of passion. That’s more words than I think it requires but the point is clear.”  
“That’s barbaric. Some stuffy old man telling me I can indulge in gin if I crave it, but that we can’t have sexual gratification, do you not think that a little strange?” Felicity smiled watching Oliver as he closed the book and placed it on his nightstand.

“I just want to look after you,” he sighed, pressing a tender kiss to the side of her forehead as her head dropped onto his shoulder, “and our baby,” he continued, his warm palm gently smoothing across her stomach.

Felicity watched him closely, admiring the way his eyes filled with emotions he never hid from her.  
“You’re scared?” she asked, twisting a fingers slowly through the hair near his temple.  
“I’ve never been more scared,” he whispered, as though afraid the silent walls would hear and judge him.  
“We’ll be fine Oliver,” Felicity smiled, pressing his palm deeper onto her stomach, “we both will.”

“I can’t think on my life if you aren’t in it. You’re like my air, I can’t live without you.”  
Felicity swallowed the heavy lump in her throat as she nestled her body in closer to Oliver and pulled a loose blanket across the two of them.  
“We’ll be fine, I know we will,” she kissed the words into the slope of his shoulder.  
“How do you know?”  
“Because, I just do. You, me, our four children,” she smiled, nuzzling into his arm.  
“Four? You know the house will only have three bedrooms.”  
“The boys can share one and the girls can share the other.”  
“You have it all planned out huh?”  
“Of course, let’s fill the world with little Queen babies.”  
She laughed softly against his arm as her hands traced over the ridges and valleys of his chest.  
“We’ll get through this and whatever else we have ahead of us Oliver because we’ll do it together,” her hand slowly rose up his body, pausing at his jaw with her thumb swiping across his cheek, “Whatever we face, it’s you and me Oliver.”

His lips met with her forehead, soft and steady against the small lines there, his eyes lulling closed as he breathed her in. Committing to memory once more the way she felt wrapped up in his arms.

* * *

  
**June 1925**

Oliver's vision sudden went dark, the bright light of the sun turning orange through the blindfold of hands that wrapped around his head. He felt a warm kiss against the crook of his neck and a soft breath down the front of his dusted cream stretch-cotton shirt.

“Felicity,” he hummed, his hands rolling down her arms as she pulled them back from his eyes.  
“Surprise,” she gleamed as he turned in her arms.

She was glowing. Her soft skin radiated the reflection of the high noon sun and her curled blond hair, pulled back from her face, whipped lazily around in the slight tempered breeze. The white dress she wore hung perfectly around her blossoming stomach. It was still small, _compact_ Felicity would call it, but it was perfect; and Oliver couldn't resist a moment to let his hands graze over it.

“What are you doing here?” Oliver asked, looking around the almost-finished stable, up towards the hill where their house sat, also almost-complete.  
“I wanted to come visit you, I was bored. I thought I could look around the house, get a feel for baby's room,” she shrugged, a bright smile captured on her lips.  
“I told you, it's not safe up there yet, there are still a lot of things that could hurt you,” he leaned down coming at eye level with her stomach, “or you.”

“Oliver, it'll be fine. You worry too much,” she laughed.  
“And you give me too many reasons to worry,” he replied, folding his fingers into hers as they started to walk towards the long grass surrounding the lake.  
“I was bored Oliver, I need to do something more than opening and closing windows to ensure the correct level of airflow required during pregnancy.”  
“You read the books?” Oliver laughed.  
“I tried to, but once more I find myself wondering how useful a book can be that says the baby will be marked with a birthmark if I worried too much at the same time it actually makes me worry about inane things. It's no wonder pregnant woman go hysterical,” she winked, “they read these books.”

Oliver stopped in the middle of the long grass, his hand still holding onto Felicity's. She turned back to look at him with questioning eyes.  
“How did you get here?” he asked.  
Felicity rolled her lips around, toying with the many different answers she could give, but only one would be the truth.  
“I rode,” she replied quietly.  
“You rode?”

She nodded coyly, “I mean, yes,” she replied, seeing the disapproval in Oliver's eyes.  
“Felicity you shouldn't be riding a horse, I thought we agreed.”  
“You said that, I just kind of listened.”  
“Felicity,” he quipped, exasperated.  
“Oliver, honestly, I feel fine.”  
“That doesn't mean-”  
She stopped his words with a quick kiss.

“I'm sorry,” she pouted, “I just wanted to see you.”  
“You ain't riding back,” he sighed.  
“You want me to walk? That'd take a really long time.”  
“No, I'll take you back.”  
“You're going to carry me all the way home?” she laughed, folding her hands through his hair.  
Oliver nodded towards a wooden barrow that was laying discarded next to a nearby shed.  
“A barrow, you're not serious?” she laughed, cocking her head to the side quizzically.  
“It's just like a horse cart.”  
“No, Oliver, it's not.”

“Fine, you can ride home.”  
A smile drew across her face.  
“But” he paused “with me and you'll ride side saddle.”  
“Oliver, you sound awfully bossy,” she pouted playfully.  
“Just humour me Felicity, please.”  
She blinked up at him, seeing the worry trapped in his eyes.  
“Okay, it's a deal,” she kissed his cheeks, the sweetness of his concern swelling inside her.  
“Thank you,” he breathed, replying with a kiss of his own to her temple.  
“Now sit down and let me talk to our baby for a little while,” he added with a kindly smile and a drawn out wink.

* * *

  
The ride home was painfully slow with Oliver stilting any attempt Flash made to go faster than a slow walk. Felicity sat side saddle, as promised, in front of Oliver, one arm wrapped around him, the other holding onto the saddle horn.

She lay her head against his strong chest and just listened to the calming thump of his heartbeat as the sun began to fall in the distance.

He had allowed her to walk around the Ranch, and even, under his very watchful eye, she had walked the rooms of the house. Oliver had promised it would be done in a few weeks, at least enough for them to live in. The prospect of finally making their home somewhere together – that was just theirs – was worth every day she had waited for it.

“Oliver?” she hummed into the front of his shoulder.  
“Yes?” he replied, breathing in the soft hair that waved across his face.  
“Thank you.”  
“For what?”  
She titled her head as he looked down, his hat casting a shadow over her face.  
“For you, for everything.”  
“You're welcome then,” he replied, the corner of his lips turning up into a smile.  
“And thank you,” he said.  
“For?” she quipped playfully.  
“For seeing me like no one else ever did. For waiting for me to get a clue. For loving me in spite of whatever we had thrown at us.”  
She nestled into his chest once more, whispering her reply, “you're welcome.”

* * *

  
**July 1925**

Felicity sat on the porch of their newly completed house, drinking in the falling sun in the distance as it started to drop behind the mountains. Oliver nestled in next to her, his fingers idly walked across her stomach as he spoke about the day quietly, announcing to her belly that the crib was almost finished.

Felicity slapped her palms together frustratingly as she toed off her shoes and ran her bare feet along the porch railing.

“Are you okay?” Oliver asked, smiling up at her under the lip of his weathered hat.  
“Itchy,” she muttered, her tone clearly showing the annoyance of it, “so itchy.”  
Oliver took her hand and gently scratched his fingers around her palm, smiling as her eyes lulled closed and her lips curved up into a placated smile.  
“Is it that bad?” Oliver asked, watching her roughly running her feet across the coarse wood.  
“It feels like fire under my skin Oliver,” she groaned, “there isn't a thing that makes it stop,” she was almost crying.

“You think we ought to call the doctor?” he asked.  
She rocked her head back and forth, “I'm sure he'll just think me crazy.”  
Oliver placed a tender hand to her cheek and pulled her head onto his shoulder.

He wouldn't say it, but Oliver had noticed the spark dimming from Felicity's eyes of late and her once brightly illuminated skin was becoming dulled. There just seemed something off, something he didn't recognise, and, if he was honest, it had began to worry him. This sudden and painful itch simply added to it.

“I'm going to call him in the morning, I'm sure he won't mind none,” Oliver sighed into her temple, hugging her closer.  
She didn't protest, instead she simple melted into his arms, knowing just how she was safe there.

* * *

  
“How old is your wife?” the Doctor asked, turning a heavy brow towards Oliver as his hands kept the slow manipulation of Felicity’s stomach.  
“I’m eighteen,” Felicity replied, her voice slightly agitated at the tone she heard in his question and the fact it had not been directed at her.  
“And how long has she been unwell?”  
Felicity’s eyes widened – the first time could have been a mistake, the second time was most certainly deliberate and Felicity was in no mood for it.  
“A few days, a week at most,” she replied tersely.  
Oliver lay a gently hand on Felicity’s shoulder as he smiled calmly at her, trying to sooth her agitation.

The doctor replied with a low hum, oblivious for the look Felicity was shooting him.  
“And has she had any other symptoms?”  
“He can see that I’m here right?” Felicity laughed almost bitingly as she directed the question towards Oliver, “You can ask me all the same, given it’s my body you’re asking about.”  
“Mrs Queen,” he replied before clearing his throat with a heavy growl, “in these circumstances it’s best we ask questions of the level-headed one that can best answer.”  
Oliver swallowed the instant lump that sprung up in the back of his throat as he pressed firmly down on Felicity’s shoulder, silently praying that she would let this one go, but knowing his wife – as he did – he knew she wouldn’t.

“I’m sorry, circumstances?” she snipped, “you mean pregnant? I assure you Doctor, I am still very capable of answering any question you pose, I have not completely given over to hysteria.”  
“Felicity is very capable of answering any questions you have Doctor,” Oliver reiterated, trying his best to stop the standoff from going any further.  
“I see,” came the response as a low eye was cast from Oliver to Felicity and then back to Oliver.

The Doctor turned to look into his black leather bag and Oliver took the opportunity to lean down and press a soft kiss to Felicity’s cheek, “Let it go,” he whispered with a smile.  
Felicity pouted, but nodded her head slowly. She really didn’t have the stamina to argue, once more, that her pregnancy did not equate to some form of mental illness.

“I need to examine you internally,” the Doctor announced with a short gruff as he snapped on a thick rubber glove.  
Felicity looked at it with wide eyes and a slow shake of her head, instantly regretting the attitude she had retaliated with if it meant lessening the imagined horror of what was about to happen.

“You can leave the room Mr Queen.”  
“Oh he’s not going anywhere,” Felicity replied clutching his hand, “right?”  
“Of course not baby,” Oliver smiled, running his fingers through her hair that sprawled out across the pillow.

“As you want it” the doctor shrugged, “you may feel some slight discomfort,” he added, his words finally directed towards Felicity.

 _Slight discomfort_ was an understatement if there ever was one. Felicity didn’t care to know what exactly he was doing down there but it felt like a searing pain that travelled through places she didn’t know could feel pain. Her knuckles turned white as she held onto Oliver’s hand with a death grip. Her lips were pulled tightly inwards with her teeth as a few lonely tears fell slowly from her eyes.

She could remember the pain that had come with her first time with Oliver, but that paled in comparison.

She squeezed her eyes shut, forcing out a few more tears before she felt the pressure release and heard the snapping of the rubber glove.

“The baby seems fine, you can put your garments back on while Mr Queen and I leave the room.”

Felicity would have argued about Oliver leaving, but if she was honest she welcomed the solitary moment that would be afforded her to collect herself.

**~*~*~*~**

“Is everything okay?” Oliver asked as he pulled the bedroom door shut and walked with the Doctor towards the front door.  
“Your child has a strong heartbeat and is facing the right way, but your wife I am concerned about,”  
Oliver shifted anxiously from one foot to the other waiting for the rest of the diagnosis.  
“It looks to me like liver poisoning. The yellowing of her eyes, the itching under her skin and the general feeling of unwell are all symptoms of this.”

“But she’ll be alright?”  
“I’m afraid it’s not that simple Mr Queen. In effect your wife’s body is filling with poison which can be dangerous for both mother and child.”  
“So what do we do?”  
“I would recommend we induce labour early with a mixture of castor oil and quinine and she may require some stretching to allow the birth to take place.”

Oliver almost gasped, imagine the response such a reply would garner from Felicity.  
“She’s only seven or so months along, isn’t it too early?”  
“It is early Mr Queen and your baby will be small.”  
“But the baby will live?”  
“We have no way of knowing with these things until the child is born. If the lungs are fully developed then we expect a 60% chance the baby will be fine.”  
“And if not?”  
“You should prepare for the possibility your child won’t survive.”  
Oliver’s lips twisted over the words, “give me a number.”  
“About an 80% chance of mortality.”

Oliver stepped back as his body took a sharp inhale.  
“And you have no way of knowing which side the baby will fall on?”  
“I’m afraid not, but if this gets left she will only get worse, not better and the child could die in the womb at any time, your wife a few days later.”

Oliver walked around on the spot, running a heavy hand through his hair, the other palming down the side of his cotton pants.

“Felicity won’t agree to it,” he muttered, his eyes dropping to the floor before blinking back up at the grey-haired man.  
“I suggest not leaving the decision up to her.”  
Oliver’s brow furrowed, the idea of not telling her so foreign to him.  
“Women do not often think through the consequences when making decisions such as this.”  
“She’s my wife and the mother of my child, while I thank you for your medical input, this won’t be a decision I make without her.”

The Doctor nodded, his brow slightly raised in a manner that he did not agree with Oliver’s stance but would not argue it.  
“I’ll come by tomorrow before noon to check up on her. You should consider what I suggested though.”

Oliver pressed his lips into a short smile as he opened the door and bid the doctor a pleasant enough goodbye.

“Where did he go?” Felicity asked, propping her body against the doorframe of the bedroom, a lowly foot sweeping back and forth over the hardwood floors.  
“Back to bed,” Oliver spoke, rolling his eyes in jest as he walked towards her.  
“I’m tired of lying ‘round like a labouring heifer,” she pouted, scouting past him to head towards the small kitchen.  
“Felicity this is serious, you need to slow down.”  
Felicity wiped a small tear that sprung from her eye and slid down her cheek.  
“I didn’t do this did I?” she whispered, the fragility in her cracking voice pulling Oliver closer towards her for comfort.

“Felicity, this is not your fault,” he replied, smoothing his rugged fingers under her silken chin, raising it slightly, “don’t ever think that.”  
Felicity managed a small and thankful smile, her eyes softly closing at the quiet comfort Oliver’s touch afforded her.  
“But we need to talk about something,” Oliver pulled the chair beside them out and gestured for her to sit, a pleading expression locked on his face.

Felicity sunk slowly into the chair, her hands instinctively wrapping around the burgeoning stomach that was now fully out the maternity fashion her mother had insisted on purchasing.

“The doctor says it’s your liver, it ain’t working like it should on account of the baby,” Oliver started, pulling a second chair over to her.  
He sat down, his arms stretched out to hold her hands, their knees touching each other and their feet entwined together.

“Is there something to be done about it?” Felicity asks, her tongue nervously peeking out between her lips  
“He says it’ll come right once the baby comes out.”  
“So we just have to wait it out then,” she smiled looking down at the bump.  
“He doesn’t think there is that much time available.”  
Felicity blinked up at Oliver, her mind working through the insinuation of his words.  
“They want to bring him early?”  
“Or her,” Oliver smiled, the same smile quickly fading as he continued, “yes, the sooner the better.”  
“It’s a boy, I just know it,” she whispered, a melodic tone filling her words, “and I also know he’s too little Oliver.”

The hand entwined with his squeezed gently around his fingers and her brows furrowed in worry at the looming dark cloud she could feel enveloping them.  
“There could be a chance he’ll do just fine this far along” Oliver replied, parroting the doctor’s sentiments  
“And do you believe that?”  
“I don’t know what to believe.”

Felicity paused, her eyes looking down to her stomach then back up to Oliver.  
“He told you to make the decision without me, didn’t he?”  
“It don’t matter what he said Felicity, I would never. This is our family.”  
“I won’t. I won’t have him come this early.”

Oliver’s face twisted at her decision, but deep down he knew that either answer would not have felt any different.

“He says you could die, that you could both die.”  
“Oliver, he’s too little, I feel it in my soul. If they force him out now we will lose our son. A few more weeks, let’s just give him a few more weeks.”

“I won’t convince you otherwise will I?”  
“Nope,” she smiled with a gentle shake of her head, “because you know it’s the right choice, just trust it.”  
“I can’t lose you,” his hand tightened around hers as his other palm lay curved around her stomach, “either of you.”

“You won’t, I wouldn’t allow it and you say I’m as stubborn as they come,” Felicity smiled, her tear-marred cheeks blushing apple red for just a moment.  
“Aye, you are.”  
“So trust me to be stubborn this time. We give him more time to grow, then I’ll do whatever needs doing,” she said with a determined nod.

Oliver breathed out a heavy exhale of a breath he never realised he was holding as he blinked out two small tears. He needed every ounce of belief he could muster in the moment and he found it looking in her shining blue eyes, watching as her dark lashes fanned out across her milky skin. His family, his everything – was asking him to trust her, to have faith.

Forever and for always, he would.

“I need you to promise me something Oliver,” Felicity said softly, taking a slow and steady breath, her hand never leaving his.  
“Aye, I’ll hear it.”  
“Whatever happens, look after our baby.”  
“Felicity-“  
“Oliver, I need to know that no matter what, that he will always have his Papa looking out  
for him, please promise me that.”

Oliver weighed up, with weary eyes and a heavy heart, the enormity of what she was asking him, trapped in the words that she didn’t speak. He knew what she was asking of him – should the choice be between her and their baby, he was to choose their baby.

“I can’t make that promise,” he replied solemnly.  
Felicity rolled her lips inwards and lowered her head sadly.  
“Because I don’t need to make that kind of a promise, I’ll look after you both. Keep you both safe. There ain’t another word to be said on it Felicity.”

She raised her head slowly, catching the depth of his eyes and the silent promise that lingered there. He would not commit it to words, but she saw it – he would protect their child – no matter what.

* * *

  
**15 August 1925**

“It’s time isn’t it?” Felicity sighed, her lips staying parted slightly as she hugged the robe tightly across her paled body.

The last weeks had been torturous, the colour had all but drained from her skin, replaced with a yellowed sunken tone. Her once freshly blue eyes struggled to hold any colouring and her body had become weak, appearing to fail from the inside out.

Oliver nodded slowly as he sat down on the edge of the bed beside her, the sounds of the water running in the next room as the Doctor washed his hands after yet another excruciating examination, the only sound between them.

“They want to take you to the hospital, they reckon it’ll be safer for you than any delivery at home.”  
Felicity scraped her teeth anxiously over her bottom lip, leaving blushed crescent shapes against the paled colour of it.  
“Is he big enough?” she asked, her hands shaking against the now-prominent pregnancy belly.  
“I reckon you’ve done the best job in the world. He’s our baby, so he’s a fighter,” Oliver pulled her head into his chest, combing a lazy hand down her hair, “It’s time to look after you now,” he kissed his words into her crown.

“Oliver,” she cried, letting the tears fall freely, “I’m scared.”  
She listened to calming lull of his heartbeat, letting it sweep her up and engulf her.  
“I know baby, but we’ll get through this, all of us.”

**~*~*~*~**

  
The room was sparse, cold and uninviting and as Felicity lay in bed looking around at the bare walls and the minimal, grey furnishings she thought this no place for a baby to first see the world.

She had dreamed, perhaps unrealistically, of their child been born at home. His ears hearing the birds chirping rather than the nurses sensible heels on the linoleum floor. His first sight to be of the ones who’s voices he had come to know so intimately rather than the face of a stranger with heavy grey hair and thick rimmed spectacles.

Their child, she lamented, should have been born in the place he would call home, surrounded by the people he would call family. But here she was, alone in this stale room, the disgusting taste of cod liver oil still coating her throat, just...waiting.

Once she had been stripped of the comforting yellow dress she had been wearing and subjected to an array of pokes and proddings, they had allowed Oliver to come in for a few moments, under the watchful eyes of the matron midwife, before he was shuffled back out of the room to allow her to “ _labour in peace_ ”. A complete paradox of how she actually felt – alone.

Her head rolled toward the door when she heard it creak open, expecting to see the white smocked figure of a nurse, she was met instead with the smiling face of Oliver.

“You’re going to get yourself in trouble Mr Queen,” Felicity smiled brightly.  
“I ain’t scared of them and I’m not leaving you to labour alone, don’t care what they say.”

A second smile in seconds brimmed over her face, it was almost as though they shared inner voices.

“How are you?” he asked, rolling his hat off his head as he took long strides towards the bed.  
“Much the same, wishing this place felt a little more like a place a baby should see,” she replied wistfully  
“Well it ain’t much, but I thought it might help so I snuck it in,” he winked as he pulled a handkerchief sized cut of red and white terrycloth from his pocket.

“It’s just like it” she whispered as she took it from his hands and ran her thumbs across the weave. It looked and felt almost identical to the one that had been consumed in the fire

“I know, I’ve spent the last few weeks trying to find one that’s just right. John thought I was near on mad when I asked him to drive me a good hour away to find this,” Oliver replied, tapping the cloth in her hands, “but I’d have walked to get it if I needed to.”  
“I love it,” she breathed softly.  
“In case they make me leave again, hold it tight and I’ll be right with you.”

Felicity’s lips parted softly as her voice readied itself to speak when she felt a heavy surge jolt across her core. She buckled inward at the sensation. It had begun.

“Are you okay?” Oliver asked, his eyes widening.  
“I think it’s starting,” she smiled with pinched eyes.  
“I’ll get the nurse.”  
Felicity caught his hand as he started to walk away.  
“No, stay a little longer, let him hear your voice.”  
“Or her, Felicity.”  
“I told you Oliver, this baby is a boy, I know it.”  
She clasped his hand and brought it to rest on her stomach.  
“Talk,” she pleaded, a rippling tightening cascading down her spine.  
Oliver leaned forward and pressed a weighted kiss atop the thin cotton nightgown draped over Felicity’s stomach

“Will you be coming soon little baby? Your mama and I can’t wait to meet you. You’re going to love your mama, she’s perfect.”  
Oliver felt the roll of her stomach and the fast kicks up at the underside of his hand. Felicity held her tongue, breathing through the second hefty contraction, mindful to be quiet enough to steal them some precious time alone.

“Your nanas are outside waiting for you, and your Aunt Thea she’s been learning to knit just to make you a hat. You come soon little baby, you come soon and strong.”

“Mr Queen, the fathers are supposed to wait outside,” the heavy set matron announced as she entered the room with a loud thud of the door.  
“It’s started, and I don’t want to be anywhere else.”  
The nurse pushed past him, laying a slapped palm against the bottom of Felicity’s barrelled stomach.

Another wave hit, making Felicity snap in a swallowing of air and squeeze her eyes shut.  
“Feels like a contraction, I’ll fetch the doctor. It’s time for you to leave Mr Queen,” the matron spoke, nodding her head towards the door.

“I want to stay with Felicity, I want to stay with my wife,” his hand clutched hers and she gripped her trimmed nails into it like an anchor.  
“Delivery rooms are no place for a man. It isn’t proper and the doctor won’t allow it.”  
“He was there when we made the baby, he ought to be able to be here when the baby comes out,” Felicity quipped through heavy pants.

Her comment was met with a distasteful glare.  
“Wait outside like every other man does, it’s best for everyone involved.”  
Her heavy hands pushed on Oliver’s back but his feet were locked.  
“If you don’t leave, we’ll have to have you removed from the hospital, is that what you want?”  
Felicity squeezed Oliver’s hand tightly.  
“It’s okay, you should go,” she sighed before she pressed her lips to his hand.  
She could tell he would have fought tooth and nail to stay in that room if she asked it of him, but he didn’t need to prove that today.

“I’ll be right outside the door,” he said, slowly easing his grip on her hand, his other hand sliding from her stomach.  
“I know,” she blinked down, gesturing to the red and white terrycloth clamped in her hand, her fingers closed around it like a vice.

“I love you,” he brimmed.  
“I-“ the next contraction stole her words, her mouth hung open.  
“Love-you-too,” she hurried, speaking all the words in one quick breath.

**~*~*~*~**

  
The minutes ticked by like weeks sewn together as Oliver paced the halls. What had started so suddenly had waned just as quickly and he was helpless to fix it.

“You’ll wear a hole in the floor soon son,” Moira said as she handed Oliver a glass of water, “Come back to the waiting room with me, take a few moments rest.”

Oliver swallowed the tepid water in a quick succession of gulps before handing the empty glass back.  
“I told her I’d be right outside, that’s where I plan to stay,” he replied through gritted teeth as he listened to the muffled voices behind the door.

A heavy cry echoed off the walls, the first real noise he had heard in almost 20 minutes. He felt the jarring of Felicity’s cry like a knife to his spine as it instantly transported him back to that moment they were separated by a burning wall of timber. He went to rush forward but Moira caught his arm, holding him in place.

“Those are natural sounds son, she’s working hard in there. There is nothing you can do but let nature take its course.”  
“I should be in there, she shouldn’t be alone.”  
“She has the doctor and nurses, she’s not alone.”  
“They don’t love her like I do, I should be there.”  
Moira nodded slowly, pulling her much taller son into an embrace as Felicity’s voice bounced off the walls, high pitched and desperate.

“She’s close son,” Moira whispered before Oliver broke free and locked his eyes on the door.

He imagined himself on the other side of it, holding her hand, kissing the sweat from her brow and telling her whatever words she needed to hear. The wails grew louder, sharper and if Oliver focused his senses he could hear the shuffling of feet on the floor, the rustling of steel tools and the low gruffed instructions of the doctor.

“You can do it baby, you’re doing so well,” he whispered the words, his eyes closed and a single tear making a path down his cheek.  
“I love you Felicity, you’re my love, my life, my home. Stay strong, you can do this.”

He repeated his words like a chant, pushing every part of his spirit through that cold grey door till he felt like he was beside her. Whispered words, over and over. Silent prayers begged for whoever was listening to keep them safe. He needed his family.

 _Lightning crashes a new mother cries_  
_This moment she's been waiting for_  
_The angel opens her eyes_  
_Pale blue coloured iris_

The sound was like nothing Oliver had ever heard before. The resonating sound of Felicity calling out stopped short. Silence fell like a heavy velvet curtain. His breath stopped. His eyes slammed open. Still silence like a noose.

He felt his knees buckling, the weight of his body almost too much to keep upright....and then he heard it. Faint at first, so faint it was that he thought perhaps he imagined it. But it came again quickly, this time louder...a cry. A baby’s cry. His baby’s cry.

Nothing could stop him, the cold grey walls faded away as he pushed through the doors, willing to suffer any consequence that came as a result of his actions, he didn’t care, he needed to see his son and his wife.

He saw her smile first, it was sedated and drawn but it was there and it was all he needed. No one scolded him, but rather he was presented with something much better, a small swaddled bundle of baby, with big blue eyes squinting to make sense of the sudden bursts of light.

“Your son Mr Queen, your wife did amazing. She’s very strong,” the younger nurse smiled as she nestled the tiny bundle into Oliver’s expansive arms.

He felt like a giant as he looked down with a quivering smile.  
“I know, she is,” he breathed looking over to her.  
“I told you, a boy,” Felicity mouthed, her eyes tapering closed.  
“You did,” he smiled, “I love you.”

“Your son is fully developed, breathing on his own and a good bonny weight, Nurse Marie will take you to the nursery,” the doctor commented, holding up his blood stained and gloved hands.  
“Felicity should hold him,” Oliver retorted, twisting so Felicity could see their songs face.  
“She needs to rest and pass the afterbirth, they’ll inform you when you can see her.”

Felicity was too weak to argue the point and Oliver was shuffled once more from the room, only this time he was holding his precious little baby boy.

  **~*~*~*~**

“Is he okay?” Felicity spoke, the scratch in her voice like dry sandpaper.  
“He’s perfect,” Oliver replied, holding the glass of water up to her lips as he glanced back at the small plastic crib where their son was laying.

Felicity drunk slowly, the cool water like an instant relief to her dry mouth and throat. Her eyes struggled to stay open as the sedative worked through her system.

The doctor had insisted that she be left alone to rest but after pleading with Nurse Marie she had let him into the room to let Felicity meet their baby boy.

“Can I see him?” she asked quietly, shifting slightly in the heavy cotton sheets.  
“Of course, he wants to meet you so much,” Oliver replied, putting the glass down on the small table beside the bed before walking over to the crib.

He was met with questioning blue eyes and a sweetly pouted mouth that looked as inquisitive as Felicity’s expressive nature. He picked the boy up gently and walked at a snail’s pace back to Felicity.

“It’s your mama, isn’t she beautiful?” Oliver whispered, placing him down into Felicity’s waiting arms.  
“Hi Robbie,” Felicity smiled, touching a soft finger to the cherub cheek of the little boy.  
“So you haven’t changed your mind about his name?”  
“Nope,” she replied, shaking her head slowly.  
“Good, I wanted the first time he heard it to be from your lips,” Oliver replied, teetering on the edge of the bed, his arm wrapped around the back of Felicity.  
“Robert Noah Queen, that’s the name of a strong boy with a good heart.”

She gazed at him lovingly, studying each little curve of his tiny face and falling in love with every moment of it. Her eyes grew heavy, her body weighted like she was trapped in piles of sand. She fought to keep her eyes open but she was loosing the fight.

“Please take him Oliver, I’m so tired, I fear I might drop him.”  
“You need to rest baby, well be right here.”  
Felicity nodded lethargically as Oliver took Robbie from her hands.

He walked back towards the crib, cooing softly to Robbie’s blinking eyes.  
“We need to let mama rest,” he smiled laying him down.

Oliver turned back to look at Felicity. Her eyes had already closed, her lips just parted and her pale face showing just a hint of blush in the cheek. He walked towards her, intent on placing a soft kiss against her forehead.

As he walked closer an ominous cloud filled the space between them. Her arm was draped over the edge of the bed, her neck slightly twisted.  
“Felicity?” he asked as he placed a palm to her cheek.  
She was cold.  
“Felicity?” he crowed louder.  
His instinct took over and he pulled back the blankets to check if she was breathing. The sight made him stumble backwards. The entire lower half of the crisp white sheet was painted red with blood.

Everything after that moment went by Oliver’s eyes in flashes. He had called out for help. The room had filled with hurried voices and worried faces. Scuffed feet echoed through Oliver’s ears. He stumbled backwards, falling against the wall.

Chaos.

Robbie’s cries pierced through all other noises and Oliver ran to his side.

Before Oliver registered what was happening the room had emptied like receding waters, taking Felicity with them.

  **~*~*~*~**

Oliver sat on the chair, his head buried in his fists and his body gently rocking back and forth. He had taken Robbie back to the nursery where his mother was watching over him. Donna was sat beside him, crying softly into a white, lace-trimmed handkerchief, both of them waiting for news on Felicity's condition.

“Mr Queen?” the Doctor spoke, breaking the silence that was like a thick fog around him.  
Oliver looked up, his eyes desperate to read the expression on the doctor's face, but there was little being given away.

“Is she okay? Please, is she okay?” Oliver pleaded, standing up from the chair on shaking legs.  
“She's stable, sedated for now, but you can see her soon.”  
“What happened? She was fine one moment, and then,” Oliver blinked, remembering the scene of blood that tormented his vision, “and then she wasn't.”

“Felicity haemorrhaged, a portion of the placenta was still attached inside her.”  
Oliver blinked, trying to make sense of the information he was been handled as Donna leaned against him, shaking with her quiet tears.  
“But she'll be okay, wont she?” Donna sniffed, wiping the handkerchief across her cheeks.  
“I believe so, she lost a lot of blood, but her colour is coming back and she was starting to rouse from the sedation just fine.”

Oliver's eyes narrowed, he sensed there was more to this that the doctor was waiting to drop. Oliver was waiting for the but...

“But..” the doctor started.  
_There it was._

**~*~*~*~**

**Please note the following deals with fertility issues that may be a trigger for some.  Please consider this before reading on.**

  
_We suggest you don’t tell her._  
_Let us._  
_In a few weeks._  
_She can’t handle the truth right now_  
_Keep it from her_

Those were the doctor’s words that were repeating in Oliver’s head like a chorus playing over and over as he walked into Felicity’s room.

Seeing her, frail and small in the bed, took his breath away. A sudden pang of guilt crashed through him as he allowed his mind to wander to the dark place where he blamed himself for this – for _everything_.

“Oliver?” she breathed, his name drawn out across her cracked lips, her voice barely heard.  
“It's me baby, I'm here,” he forced a smile, desperate to give her whatever comfort she could get from it.

“How's Robbie?” she asked as he came in close and took her listless hand into his.  
“He's good, he's doing really well, he's with you Mam.”  
Felicity smiled softly, the effort to do so written in the lines on her face.

“Good I'm glad,” she replied.  
“You did such a great job Felicity, he's perfect.”  
Her smile reached her eyes as she nodded slowly.  
“Yea, he is.”

Felicity looked up, studying the worry lines that were scouring Oliver's face, in contradiction to the smile he had so carefully placed on his lips. Even after all this time, he still didn't realise just how easily she could read him.

There was something he wasn't saying.

What's wrong?” she asked knowingly.  
“Nothing,” he lied.

“Don’t start now Oliver,” she whispered, her pale blue eyes lulling closed before she struggled to pull them open.  
“What hon?” he feigned his smile, hiding the heartbreak hidden behind.  
“Don’t start lying to me.”  
His hand gripped hers tighter, a single tear sliding down his cheeks as his spirit sat on the precipice of falling apart.

“The whole world can lie to me Oliver, but not you. Never you,” she breathed, the words stilted and laboured like her breath.  
He didn’t know the choice he should make, two different paths lay before him, one where he lied to her now and saved the news for some tomorrow in the future; or tell her the truth and watch it crush her like he knew it would.

“Felicity,” his hand grew tighter around hers, his thumb stroking the top of her hand “you bled out a lot, I thought I lost you.”  
“But you didn’t.”  
He nodded slowly, his brows pulling inward to stop the tears that threatened to burst forth.  
“They did what they could, what they needed to do to keep you alive.”  
Felicity’s dry and dull lips parted softly as her eyes searched Oliver’s expression, fearful to the conclusion her mind was slowly coming to.

“What? What did they do?” she asked, her lips quivering and her hand shaking under his.  
“They did what they had to Felicity and we have our perfect family and-”  
“Oliver please.”  
Oliver hung his chin to his chest, steadied his breath and sniffed back the emotion. In his mind he needed to be strong, strong for their son, strong for his Felicity.  
“We won’t be able to have another child, you won’t get pregnant again,” his eyes walked slowly up to hers catching the moment the gravity of his words sunk in and he could have sworn he saw her heart shatter.

Felicity heard every word – they echoed through her head and resonated through every nerve ending in her body. His words were veiled, he had tried to temper them as best he could, but the truth of them stole her breath and muted all her words.

In that instant her perfect life became tarnished, like a mirror blackened and cracked. She wanted to say something to Oliver as his eyes watched her, but she had nothing. Only the thick stench of ash filled her. Every breath she took was like a silent torture.

 _I can feel it comin' back again_  
_like a rollin' thunder chasing the wind_  
_forces pullin' from the center of the earth again_  
_I can feel it._

She just looked at him. Her eyes heavy with tears that, when she finally blinked, broke free and burned tracks down her sunken cheeks.

She would not carry another child like she had carried Robbie.  
There would be no filling the world with Queen babies.  
There would be no Adeline.


	5. Another Perfect

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fair warning, this may tug at heart strings, and it deals with fertility issues.
> 
> I hope this is dealt with respectfully and honestly.
> 
> Xox

 

Oliver’s shoes were worn at the toe along the inside of the left hand shoe. Not enough to allow the water to seep in, but enough to make the brown hide look patchy and bare. He had run down avenues where a cobbler might be able to fix that seeing as they were moulded to his feet now and there was nothing worse than being stuck on your feet all day in new shoes that, despite thick socks, run your feet raw with blisters.

His heart was heavy, like an old miller’s stone used in chaffing wheat tied around his cracked and bruised heart.

But this wasn’t about shoes. Not really.

He blinked up from the floor to let his eyes rest on Felicity. Her body lay still and her hands clasped over her stomach. Oliver would have thought her sleeping if he didn’t know better. Her eyes were open, staring out the window into nothing. Saying nothing.

He had tried to comfort her, hold her like he had done so many other times, but this time she had pushed him away and when her tears finally dried up she lay emotionless as she was now as though she was raptured from the world.

“I could bring Robbie in for a visit, I know he’d love to see his mam”  
She rolled her head on the pillow, blonde hair spilling like a crown around her head.  
“I’m too tired” she whispered weakly, her eyes devoid of any cheer  
But, at least she was talking to him.

“You should sleep my love” he cooed softly, his hand gently caressing her hair.  
He watched her lips fall apart and her chest sink as a silent sigh spilled from her body.

Her eyes met with his, but her expression was vacant. Oliver desperately wanted to believe what he was seeing was simply the results of the strong medication they had dosed her small body up on, but his heart bled with sorrow when he thought, if only for a moment, that perhaps instead it was a look of disdain.

He had promised to protect her and – in his mind – he had failed.

If there was any action that he could do, any words he could say, any toll he could pay – he would gladly do so to put the pain that was seeped deep into her face upon himself.

Her eyes slowly closed with a heavy blink and for just a moment Oliver longed to make them open again but the sadness to be replaced with the usual little blue sparked that bounced inside them.

Her lips slowly folded shut, pursing for just a moment before they rested a hair’s breadth open. He thought about kissing her, desperate to see if she would kiss him back, but equally terrified that she wouldn’t.

As his mind seesawed with that decision the door to the room opened with a sharp creak and the older nurse stepped into the room, dragging Robbie’s crib along behind her and closing the door with a heavy crash that startled Felicity’s eyes back open.

“Little bubby is awake and hungry Mrs Queen, let’s sit you up” she spoke simply, with neither a kindly tone nor an form of opposite.

Oliver stepped back, his eyes fixated on his tiny son as the nurse placed him into Felicity’s somewhat reluctant arms. Holding their son suited her, but the look of fear that whipped through her eyes did not go unnoticed.

Instinctively he stepped back towards the bed, folding his arm under Felicity’s. She was tired, spent, exhausted and a brief smile of thankfulness plucked across her lips and warmed his heart.

“You need to learn to do this yourself dear, the man won’t always be home”  
Oliver’s eyes narrowed at the inference of her words and he went to open his mouth to vent his frustration until Felicity shook her head gently to still him.

He swallowed the words and focused his attention on Felicity as she studied Robbie’s delicate features.

There was something both ethereally joyful and encompassingly sad about holding little Robbie in her arms. She couldn’t, wouldn’t, voice it out loud but watching his nose scrunch up and his tiny mouth instinctively search out milk seemed like both a beautiful beginning and a devastating end.

Her heart felt conflicted.  
Sick.  
Twisted.  
Broken.

And all she saw when she looked at Oliver was his intrinsic need to make it better; and the painful realisation that he couldn’t.

“Visiting hours are over Mr Queen, it’s time for you to leave” the nurse said bluntly, cracking the silent air  
Oliver stepped away from Felicity’s bed, touching first Robbie’s sprout of blond hair before sliding his fingers up Felicity’s arm.

“There is a chair in this room, I’ll just stay here” he replied, his voiced hushed to not break the fragile peace that seemed to be teetering on Felicity’s face  
“I’m sorry we can’t allow that, only patients spend the night” the nursed quipped as she fluffed around with the sheets in the tiny bassinette.

Oliver took her arm and gently scooted her a few extra feet away from Felicity’s earshot, desperate for the calm to remain status quo.  
“My wife just had a baby and major surgery that changed her life, our lives, I ain’t leaving”  
“Hospital policy. You’re not staying” she snipped, her brow raised like a matron on a mission  
“She needs me to stay. I won’t leave” Oliver grimaced, the pain etched through the sunken lines of his face. Felicity was his everything, when he watched her leave for New York it shredded his heart, he wouldn’t let that happen again. When flames drove a barrier between them, Oliver stayed and he wasn’t about to leave her now.

“You’ll need to send people in to drag me out and I will still find a way back into this hospital. You pushed me out once before but I’m not, _I am not,_ leaving this room” Oliver’s voice was booming, far more than he intended, and his jaw was clenched tighter than a bear trap – there was no way in hell he was leaving this room of his own volition

“Oliver maybe you should go” Felicity spoke shakily as tears welled up behind her eyes  
The matron nurse looked trapped in a vortex of shock and admonition – it had always been her experience that father’s always preferred to be kept away from a crying baby and a nursing mother, preferring instead the comfort of their own bed.

“I’m not leaving your side, not now, not ever”  
“Oliver, please just go. There isn’t any point you staying”

He felt an intense heat pulsing under his skin, it wasn’t anger, it wasn’t fear ... in fact he didn’t know what to call it, except hopeless. Torn between giving her what she asked but desperately wanting to challenge it.

Torn.  
Broken.

He walked with dragged feet over to the bed and placed the softest kiss on the top of Robbie’s head, smoothed his thumb through the tears that drew tracks down her paled cheeks and kissed the very top of her nose.

“Is that what you want?” he whispered  
She nodded through the lie, unsure what the truth even was.  
All she knew is that she couldn’t face the fight to do anything else.  
She wanted to be done fighting.

Fighting her parents.  
Fighting Oliver to notice her.  
Fighting her Aunt.  
Fighting Ray.  
Fighting.  
She was done.

He left without fighting, offering her an anguished smile that hid so much more.

He didn’t go far that night and, despite the drop in temperature, Oliver spent the night on a wooden bench under a flickering lamppost just outside her room. Watching her window until exhaustion overcame him and he slipped into a deeply needed but barely restful sleep.

“I can’t believe he’s still out there” a much younger and kinder nurse remarked as she helped Felicity nurse once more  
“I can” Felicity replied quietly  
“That’s a beautiful kind of love what you two have, after everything” the nurse offered an apologetic smile Felicity took to mean that she, despite being out of Starling town limits, she knew much of their tale.

“You want me to keep the curtains open?” she asked as she took a contended Robbie and placed him into the bassinet  
“No” Felicity said, the single word tinged with unfathomable guilt “Please close them”

Her view of Oliver disappeared when the nurse followed through and quietly left the room. Felicity instantly regretted the choice, but in the moment she wondered if not seeing him would make everything hurt less.

It didn’t.

  
**~Two Weeks Later~**

Felicity blinked at the house, taking in the dusting of wind that blew the swing seat ever so slightly on the porch. She knew in her heart this was home, but something seemed so different about it now; and despite her best endeavours she couldn’t shake it.

Oliver opened her door and held his hand out to her, a brimming smile pressed onto his lips.  
“Welcome home baby”  
She nodded with a soft peeked smiled before she took his hand and slid from the polished leather seat.

The pain from her abdomen shuddered through her body the instant she stood straight and she buckled under the intensity of it.

Oliver winced at the sight, recounting that she was the same girl who could once not that long ago, match him almost hoof for hoof in a sprint through the old paddocks.

“Felicity” he sighed her name as his hands stabled her waist  
He stooped down, slipping an arm around the back of her knees and the other across the top of her back.  
“Oliver, what?” she quipped, the first sign of a slight melody in her voice like the most amazing song to his ears as he lifted her off the ground

“You’re carrying me now?” she pouted sweetly as the fresh air filled her lungs and brightened her soul just a little  
“I’d carry you any place you needed to go Felicity” he spoke with a smile, meaning every word of it

**~Two Weeks Later~**

The time, while fast flowing, was anything but easy. Felicity had all but shut down, withdrawing into herself in a way that pained Oliver in the most tortuous way. She was a fighter, she was strong, she was fierce and she was vivacious...was.

And all he could do was put on the strongest face he knew how to. She bore enough pain, he would not add to it by letting himself break.

He would be her pillar, regardless of the tax of doing so.

The failing light of dusk found his strong will finally break when the nail he had been hammering into a stall bent on a skewed and obnoxious angle. Then everything he had piled behind his emotional wall surged, shattering the damn.

He screamed into the empty space, a desperate and guttural cry, as he threw the hammer against the wall cracking a panel of wood in a splintered line.

His fist slapped, med into the horizontal beam of the stall, the pain barely making him flinch. A kick, a punch, a vented yell. He destroyed what he had spent the last hour building in a blur of unrestrained fury and a fistful of curse words.

“Oliver?” John called from the doorway of the stables  
Oliver looked up, his hands still braced against the stall fencing that had taken the full force of his beating. His eyes were red and scarred with burning tears.

“I’ll mend that fence tomorrow for you” John spoke, worry threaded across his heavy brow “you should sit down” he added with a nod towards two chairs that sat against the back wall

“I can’t, I have work I ought be doing” Oliver grunted, frustrated at the solitary tear that weaved a track down his cheek  
“There ani’t nothing here to be done that won’t wait till ‘morrow Oliver. Sit down”

Oliver huffed, the pain abundantly obvious on each line on his face, but he knew John was right, every one of those small problems that tonight seemed insurmountable would be there tomorrow, on top of everything else that plagued his heavy heart.

He sauntered over to the carved chairs, taking the one on the left as he scuffed his feet into the dirt underfoot. John sat down on the other watching Oliver in the soft orange glow of the lamp he carried over with him.

“You want to talk about the fence, or about what’s really bothering you?”  
Oliver’s head hung low, his eyes pressing closed as pain formed in the shape of tears at the corner of his eyes.  
“I can’t help her” he said softly, a single tear making the freefall from his cheek onto the dirt floor beneath him  
“You see that fence Oliver?” John said softly, but the depth in his tone carried its weight like iron

Oliver blinked up, nodded and looked down again.  
“That fence can be fixed. All it needs is some nails, a cut of wood and some sweat and no one will ever know it was broken. But a heart, that don’t need mending Oliver, a heart needs healing”

“Then how do I heal her?” Oliver asked, not a scrap of sarcasm in his voice  
“You can’t my friend, all you can do is stand beside her as she does. I can’t even begin to imagine what you’re both going through but you have each other and you have your son and she knows that”

“She won’t look at him or me without crying you know”  
John laid a reassuring hand on Oliver’s shoulder.  
“And what about you?”  
“I can’t look at them without feeling guilty”  
“You think this was someone your fault?”  
Oliver let his head roll back and forth slowly, he didn’t – not really, _but_  
“I didn’t keep my promise to her, I promised to keep them safe and I didn’t I _couldn’t_ ”  
“But you did, she’s here and that little boy is here and you can’t ever lose sight of that” John stood, scuffing his heavy leather boots on the dusty ground “She loves that little boy and she loves you, don’t you doubt that for a minute. But a heart takes time, a lot of time. Better time spent up there, with your wife and your baby, not down here with horses and broken fences”

Oliver smiled thankfully at his friend, the few quiet moments of reflection and kindly words had been like a refreshing gust to his lungs.

There was so much beauty in what they had and over time Oliver desperately wanted to believe that such beauty would come to outweigh any pain.

* * *

  
Oliver walked with purpose, his feet mowing through the long grass each stride longer than the last. His eyes searched for life as he walked towards the little house on the hill and the soft flickering light from the porch gave him the answer he was hoping for.

The soft cries carried through the thin night air as Oliver got closer. Just before the plateau of the hill his eyes made out the silhouette of Felicity sitting with her legs gently swaying on the porch swing.

Her eyes were affixed into the distance and her head never moved to watch him as he took the final steps up towards the house. Everything about the scene hurt his heart more deeply than he could ever find the words to express.

Robbie was wrapped up tightly in a beautifully ornate white knitted blanket and folded into her arms like a small doll. His cries were like soft mewls drifting on the breeze that also waved Felicity’s hair behind her.

“He’s fussing some?” Oliver asked quietly as he almost tiptoed up the three porch steps  
Felicity finally registered his presence, rolling her head gently over her shoulder to watch him take half a dozen steps closer.  
“He’s fed, he’s clean, thought he might like it out here” she replied softly, her head walking with Oliver until he was stood beside her

He leaned in and placed a lingered kiss on her forehead, drinking in the way her skin tasted and relishing the way tiny wisps of hair floated over his face.  
“I’ll take him till he falls asleep, go rest baby” he smiled as he pulled his lips away and ran a gentle palm down her arm

She managed a smile, just a hint of one, and it was the easily the prettiest thing he had seen all day.

He bent down and his arms scooped around the tiny ball of baby and blanket, gently easing Robbie’s head into the crook of his elbow and folding his other forearm up the length of his son’s small body. He straightened his body and stepped back from the swing seat allowing Felicity to ease her tired body from it.

“I can wait up if you like” she yawned as she idly tugged her hair behind her ear  
“I want you to rest, your boys will be just fine” Oliver replied as he gently swayed Robbie in his arms “won’t we little man, you tell your momma not to worry none”

Robbie yawned, as if on cue, before he slowly smacked his lips together as his large inquisitive eyes lulled closed.

Felicity blinked heavily as she mirrored Robbie’s yawn before nodding her head. She moved slowly towards the house, her physical pain still taking its toll on her body. She graced Oliver with a languished smile when she reached the door before she slipped inside and out of sight.

Oliver walked slowly back and forth across the porch, bouncing his little boy gently in his arms with each step he took as he looked down in awe at the way the bright white of the moon reflected off Robbie’s porcelain skin.

Robbie cooed and sniffled into Oliver’s arms as he struggled with keeping his heavily lidded eyes open.  
“You’ve been keeping your momma up, but you gotta let her sleep some” he smiled as Robbie licked his tiny tongue across his little lips  
“Your momma she’s amazing, the best thing that ever happened to me and you son, you’re the best thing that was ever given to me. I don’t reckon I’ve done much to deserve either of you, but I know I won’t ever stop being thankful for your both”

Oliver sat slowly down into the swing seat and pressed his feet flat to the ground, rocking the seat carefully back and forth as he dipped his head down and placed a tender kiss atop Robbie’s button nose.

“Some people will say it was luck that your momma came home from New York when she did, with me just about to leave for California. Some might call it fortunate, but there are others who will call that fate” Oliver nestled his back into the seat and dragged his eyes across the cloudless sky

“There are lots of folks who don’t believe in fate, I know I never did, but you momma, she always believed in fate. We were just children, sitting out alone with our toes dipped in the lake, taking bets on who could keep their toes in there the longest given it was near middle of winter and it had all but frozen over”

Oliver smiled as he could still remember the way Felicity’s teeth chattered as she spoke and the way, even at 8 years old, she spoke with a certainty that Oliver, at 11, could never fully understand….

**[March 1915]**

“You ought take them out” Oliver laughed as he nodded down to Felicity’s submerged feet and laughed at the tensed look on concentration on her face  
“I ain’t taking them out ‘fore you do” she snapped back as she stared up at the failing daylight  
“I’m a man, I could outlast you hundred times over, I reckon”  
“You reckon?” she smiled, raising an eyebrow up at him  
“You care to wager something on that Oliver?” she quipped, her bright blue eyes threaded with mischief  
“What, I win your dolls?” Oliver chuckled as he yanked at blades of grass from beside his legs  
“You get my allowance for a month” Felicity replied with a grin  
“And what if in the unlikely event you win?” Oliver shot back, barely glancing across at Felicity to notice the way her eyes sung when she spoke to him  
“You answer any question I have”

Oliver laughed raucously.  
“That’s about the silliest thing…” he mumbled  
“Then it won’t matter none if you lose”  
“Well I won’t, so that’s why it won’t matter none”  
“Then shake on it” she smirked, extending her hand

Oliver slapped his palm into hers and shook it more vigorously than it may have required and for a mere second he had the opportunity to notice just how much smaller her hand was compared to his. How his was chaffed with chores and grazed from the days before and Felicity’s was soft and slender.

“It’s a deal then?” she asked, her fingers gently gripping his hand  
“Aye, it’s a deal then”  
“Okay, because Oliver” she smiled, her hands still encased in his  
“Mmm?” he grunted, letting her hand linger without complaint  
“There is a water snake right between your feet”

Oliver let his eyes fall slowly towards where Felicity nodded, expecting to see a twig floating in the cold water, but when the wavy line between his legs moved a yelp escaped from low in his throat and he leapt upwards and fell backwards into the long grass.

Felicity snorted loudly before slapping her hand across her face to still any further embarrassing noises like that.  
“You saw that before?!” Oliver stammered as he picked himself up off the ground  
Felicity shrugged as she pulled her toes from the water and wriggled the blood back into them.

“You ought to have told me”  
She shrugged again as she scooted back from the water’s edge.  
“That’s cheating”  
“You made a deal fair and square” Felicity huffed, folding her arms across her chest  
“Fine, what’s your question” Oliver replied as he stomped around the ground

Felicity let her finger linger across her lips. She had contemplated asking the object of her childlike affections many questions, but now that an opportunity presented itself she drew back most of them out of fear of speaking the words….and then one came. It was new, and she wasn’t even sure she knew the answer she would get, but before she could decide whether it was the best use of her one question, the words floated from her lips….

**[Present Day]**

“Do you believe in fate?” Oliver smiled as he recounted the question word for word “out of all the things your momma could have asked me, that’s what she asked. I don’t rightly know why, but that was your momma, always asking me questions that made me stop and think”

Oliver smiled wistfully as he recounted all the other questions over their time together that she had asked and he has stood there – speechless – at a loss as to how to answer her.

“Eventually when I got to using my brain, I told her that I didn’t, that the idea of fate meant that people stop trying so hard at life because they just resigned themselves to whatever life gave them” Oliver smiled as he gently swayed Robbie in his arms, using the heels of his feet to move the seat to and fro

“I always thought that was a pretty good answer for a clueless kid like me, but your momma, she was always so much smarter than me. You know what she said Robbie?”  
Oliver signed, closing his eyes for just a moment to see how clear the memory of Felicity’s perched brow and pinkish lips were

“She told me that fate wasn’t about just accepting what life handed to you but that sometimes your life was just _supposed_ to have certain things in it, some good, some bad, but all of it there because it was supposed to be. Your momma couldn’t tell me what things, she just shrugged her little shoulders and told me that it ‘weren’t for us to know’. I didn’t believe her back then Robbie, but I think, all these years later, I finally understand it. I understood what she meant the first moment I kissed her” he swiped his tongue softly across his lips, silently recounting that moment in the light mist of rain by the old stables

“I realised then that I was always supposed to have her in my life, that whatever good or bad came, that we were supposed to be together, that” he sighed “ _that_ was fate”

“Just like I knew, the first moment I laid eyes on you, that you being in my life” he inhaled deeply, fighting back a brimming tear “that was fate too”

He leaned down and pressed a long and loving kiss onto Robbie’s warm forehead, only then noticing that his baby boy had long since closed his eyes in sleep.

“Whatever we have in this life, there are some things we can change and some things that are fate” he concluded, his voice just barely above a whisper, but carrying through the still night air easily

“She was so smart, even back then. Your momma is as smart as they come my little man, we best not forget that” he smiled to himself as he rocked silently a little longer, drinking in the calming quiet and stillness that the night held.

Felicity drew back into the shadows of the house as her hand frantically swiped away the tears that marred tracks down her cheeks.

She remembered the story Oliver so effortlessly retold, she remembered how her heart swelled with questions and she vividly recalled the way he had scoffed at her idea of fate. Those words she had spoken then had been true in her eyes, a cocktail mix of things Sunday School had taught her, words her father had knowingly imparted, her mother’s firm belief that nothing wasn’t presented to us that we couldn’t cope with and a heaping of what Felicity herself desperately wanted to believe – that somethings in life just felt right.

Her entrenched thoughts on fate had been coursing through her brain that March day that she had galloped her acquired horse clear across the rolling empty fields in 1924 when she returned to Starling with wind-blushed cheeks and a wild idea that perhaps that farm boy who had being the object of affection in her young heart had grown some and he would be there...like _fate_.

Only now Felicity’s lips recoiled at the idea of fate.  
She wasn’t 8 anymore.  
She wasn’t fresh from New York, blindly hopeful and woefully romantic.  
She was hurting.

This wasn’t fate.  
To give with one hand only to snatch with the other.  
That was cruel.

She slipped under the covers of the bed and buried her face into the pillow to muffle the soft weeps she couldn’t stifle.

The way her heart felt so empty, so broken at a time when it was supposed to feel full and brimming with love for a baby that was so wanted wasn’t fate. It was punishment.

The word echoed through her head and anchored in her heart.  
_Punishment_.

 _But perhaps_ , the thought lingered long in her mind there was something to be done about it.

~ **Six Weeks Later~**

The days had flown by like the blinks of an eye, each seemingly faster than the last. Robbie was nearing 3 months old, growing at a speed which seemed almost surreal. Still, many nights were spent gently trying to coax him to sleep with the slow and steady rock of the porch swing or the lingered sway of laps of the dining and kitchen.

Oliver – particularly weary from a day’s hard work running in a horse that, while it was bred for speed, had next to no discipline mixed perilously with the bare scrapings of sleep he had mustered the night before – came wandering up the hill with aching bones and a heavy brow. He thought for the moment that the exhaustion had him hearing things as he got closer and the crisp tempo of jazz music journeyed through the air.

Despite his fatigue he quickened his steps up the last section of the hill, an overwhelming sense of foreboding coursing through his veins – despite the music or the ambient sound of the surrounding nature, Oliver couldn’t hear Robbie – he could _always_ hear Robbie.

He rounded the hill and strode quickly towards the front steps; and still the only sound that met his ears what that which held a crisp tempo and smooth lyrics.

He took all three porch steps in one go, scouting his eyes quickly across the porch to where he would often find Felicity sitting – nothing.

He reached the door in barely two steps and didn’t pause for even a second before he opened it and almost tumbled inside.

A gramophone set in the corner of the room drew Oliver’s eyes first before landing on Felicity who was sat on the floor next to it, her back pressed against the wall and her legs tented up with a book propped on her knees. It took him a few more seconds to register little Robbie swaddled in the little white blanket fast asleep in his Moses basket beside her.

Felicity smoothed a finger down the page of her book as she looked up with a smile. She moved silently, but quickly, to thread a bookmark into the book and slip a finger against her lips as she kept her eyes locked onto his.

Oliver felt his heart tremble at it as it seemed so long ago that she had been able to look at him with such veracity as he watched her stand and, with a poise he always knew she possessed, walk towards him.

“You’re home” she smiled, pecking his cheek just momentarily, but enough to spread a fire across his face – Felicity hadn’t kissed him since Robbie was born.  
He swallowed a heavy lump that built up in the back of his throat as she ferried him outside onto the porch, leaving the door slightly ajar

In that moment there was a flood of words that Oliver _wanted_ to say, but when her slender arms wrapped ever-so-gently around his waist and she laid her head against his chest, he forgot all of them.

His fingers trawled slowly through her hair as the wind whipped up the soft notes of lavender and orange blossom that was fragrant there.  
“Felicity, I-“ he started before she leant up and pecked a soft kiss against his lips

It was so small, such a fragment of the type of affection she had once shown to him, but he would take that in a heartbeat over the nights filled with sleeping as far away from him as she could and the barely audible tears that he knew she cried. This – this tiny, flickering of moment of affection – was like water to parched lips.

“I’m sorry Oliver, I know I haven’t been the best wife or mother”  
He opened his mouth to interject but the finger across his lips and the pleading in her eyes begged him to let her finish.  
“But I’m okay now, I asked for some help and it’s working” she spoke softly, a smile dotted in between her words

 _Asked for some help?_  
Oliver’s brain looped over those words, he hadn’t known.  
“You did?” he asked  
She folded her lips into each other and nodded slowly.  
“I’ve been going to the extra services with the ladies. The music was your mam’s idea, she said you always needed noise as a bub, that you hated silence. Given how you are now, I thought that impossible, but it worked a treat on Robbie”

Oliver smiled to mirror hers, but it pained him that she hadn’t asked for help from him; or even that he didn’t know.  
“Please don’t be mad” she whispered as she tugged her eyebrows inwards  
_And how could he?_  
What mattered is that she was smiling again, albeit a fragmented and intermittent one, but it was enough to warm his heart.  
“I ain’t mad baby” he breathed, ghosting the words across her forehead where his lips danced

“I know I can make things better for us Oliver, I can fix things” her words trailed off as her eyes stayed locked on his

Oliver wanted to hold her tighter, and beg that she would stop seeing this all like she did something wrong – like she had something to fix. Each word she spoke was like a stabbing pain to his heart, but she was smiling – _actually smiling_ – and he couldn’t, he wouldn’t, do anything in that moment that might steal that smile away.

“Will you dance with me a little?” she asked, swaying slowly in his arms  
“You know I can’t dance any better than a sway” Oliver smiled as he pressed his cheek to her forehead, afraid to let any distance come between them  
“That’s okay, that’s enough” she spoke the words into his chest as she laced her fingers at the small of his back and moved his body with hers, slowly, back and forth, rocking to the slower jazz song that was leaking from the house.

The flickering lights from the stars strewn across the darkening night sky bounced off them as they silently moved together, drinking in the sweet reprieve such a moment held for them both.

“Oliver” she whispered his name so quietly he thought it was just the sound of the wind brushing past his ears until she spoke it again, this time looking up at him.

“Yes my love?” he replied, gently caressing the back of her head  
“I want you to kiss me Oliver, like you did before”  
She watched him with wide eyes, the vivid blue of which looked just like they had the night they made love the first time.

Oliver felt the heat spilling out from his core at the recount of that night. The rain pelting against the tin roof, the thunder cracking in the background and Felicity, standing naked, exposed – _beautiful_  – in front of him, his necklace hung low between her breasts and glistening in the firelight.

“Will you?” she asked, touching a delicate finger to the side of his stubbled cheek  
He stooped down just enough to clasp her lips against his as his hands folded in around her face and threaded through her tousled hair.

The simmering fire from his core exploded as his lips trembled against her, the beautiful familiarity of them filling his heart with joy.

God he wanted her, every nerve in his body felt heightened, each ending tangled with anticipation threaded through desire. He hummed a guttural plea against her lower lip as his tongue danced across the seam of it.

And yet, something felt different, he could hardly explain it and he walked a tightrope of confusion as to whether it was just his mind playing a cruel joke, like a mirage in the desert. But her lips felt slowed, withdrawn, hollow....

He was left with only his thoughts as she pulled back from him, a glisten caught in her eyes. Before he could speak, she took his hand and turned away, leading him silently back into the house.

Oliver’s eyes fell back down to his son, still asleep in his little Moses basket beside the gramophone. Felicity walked him past Robbie and into their bedroom, softly illuminated in a haze of burnt orange light.

“Will you close the door?” she beseeched, trepidation hung in her words.  
Oliver reached behind and closed the door softly, allowing only the shallowest of clicks to sound out.

Felicity walked back towards the bed, the glisten still trapped behind the glassy blue of her irises. When the back of her knees hit the bed Oliver noticed her lips quivering, perhaps with nerves or words, or something else he didn’t understand before she reached up to the tiny pearl button at the Peter Pan collar of her dusted mint green blouse.

She watched him between feathered blinks as she slowly undid the six identical buttons, exposing her scallop-hemmed bra, but leaving the last two buttons closed.

Oliver watched, his mind a mix of lusting hunger and quiet concern. He knew what each action she was rolling through was meant to mean and yet her eyes....her eyes told a different story.

“Felicity, we don’t have to...” he trailed off his words as his hand brushed against her cheek  
“I want to Oliver, it’s right to, it’s time to”  
“You look scared”  
She took a sharp breath in and forced a flailing smile onto her lips.

“It’s been a while” she whispered hesitantly “I don’t quite look the same”  
Oliver watched as her hand smoothed across the last few buttons and he knew she was referencing the scar that now marred her skin.

“I didn’t marry you because of how pretty you are Felicity, I married you because of how beautiful your heart is. And yet” he paused with a gentle smile “You’re still the prettiest girl, _woman_ , I have ever seen”

He watched a true smile dance up across her lips as her cheek sunk into the palm of his hand.  
“Just tonight, could we” she closed her eyes for a drawn moment “could we turn off the light?”

Oliver wanted to protest as his eyes craved to see her, but she wanted this – she needed it – and so for her, he stepped towards the lamp and switched it off.

Darkness flooded the room, barely a slither of light forcing it’s way through the crack between the curtains.

He heard the linen crush under weight as Felicity discarded her skirt and panties and slipped onto the bed, leaving the three buttons still affixed on her blouse. As his eyes adjusted to the thick fog of dark he began to make out her silhouette on the bed, her back against the carved headboard and her legs twisted back up towards her. The confidence and the prowess she had once so effortlessly displayed seemed all but lost.

He walked around the side of the bed, tossing his hat on the chair as he past.  
“Felicity, it’s okay, we don’t have to, just to see you smile, to kiss you, that was enough”  
She moved amidst the sound of ruffled linen as she propped her body up onto her knees and ran her hands up the side of his pants, turning it along the waistband.

“I want to” she replied hesitantly as she twisted her fingers through the buckle of his belt, unthreading it with ease despite the limited light

Oliver stood frozen, caught on the precipice of desperately craving his wife’s tender touch and the niggling feeling that her last words to him were a lie. His breath caught when he felt the soft, airy touch of her fingers tug down his pants and briefs, grazing against the base of his heated cock.

He pulled his lips inward to stop the low growl that was threatening to escape. Every day, every hour, every minute that her hands had not been on him came barrelling against his psyche like a torrent from a damn breaking and it took everything Oliver possessed not to pin her to the bed and devour every inch of her in a famished rush.

Instead her hands locked around his waist and pulled him closer. Her lips dragged a waved line down his chest, stopping every few seconds to press a lingered kiss against his inflamed skin. His hands raked through her hair and his entire body languished in the sensations surging through his body.

She pulled him down onto her and he kicked away the clothes that had pooled at his ankles. He kissed her neck slowly, his lips drinking in the heavenly array of scents caught there. His hands skirted over her blouse and down her thigh before gliding back up and underneath the silky chiffon.

He moaned against her neck as his palm caressed the smooth skin at her waist. His fingers lightly danced the outline of the tip of her scar when her body clenched underneath him. Her hand found his and dragged him away, laying his hand instead on her heaving breasts.

The scars that marked her body only served to deepen Oliver’s love for her. In his mind they were both damaged by a fighting for what they wanted – against whatever odds, and he wouldn’t trade that for the world. But this was her body, her outward burden to carry and he would not push her to accept it the way he did – not right now, not just after he had seen her smile for the first time in so long.

Felicity’s closed her eyes, trying to focus on the way his body felt above her. Her fingers traced the ridges of his chest, skating over the rises and falling into the crevices. She tried to focus on the soft but deep breaths that melted against her neck and warmed her ear.

She zeroed in on the way his lips ghosted across her skin, each kiss placed a reminder of another one placed in times thought lost.

She steadied her breathing, her body a coiled wreck of opposing thoughts but her heart desperate to see this through – _see this through_

She hated the context of those words, the idea that this was a task to be written down on a list and to be checked off afterwards, but she needed this – she needed to fix what she had broken – only it hurt.

She buried it deeper as her legs wrapped around his waist and pulled him in closer. She felt his hand slipped down between her legs and smooth between her folds. She squeezed her eyes tighter, as she caught his hand by the wrist and pulled it away.  
“Not tonight, just you” she breathed the stunted sentence, aware that Oliver was trying to stimulate something inside of her that wasn’t there to be found.

She took the shaft of his cock into her hand and tugged him gently, rolling her thumb over the tip of it.  
“Just this” she whispered, moving the head of his cock to entrance  
“Felicity, you’re not” Oliver scoured the dark to try and find her eyes, he was desperate to see them – to read them – but he couldn’t find them  
“It’s fine Oliver, please”  
She lifted her bottom off the bed and pressed him inside her. Her mouth gaped at the filling sensation as she swallowed down any other noise that would reveal the dragging pain that raked her body.

She swallowed it all down, letting only panted breaths cross over her lips as she pulled him in deeper and rocked her body around his pulsing cock.

Oliver moved gently at first, letting her body adjust to him as slowly as he could, but her legs pushed him in deeper and his cheek caught the tiny gasps that flew from her lips. Felicity was moving underneath him, riding him and pulling him deeper until he was completely buried inside her.

Her nails gripped into his shoulder before her face turned away from him. He pulled out a little, but she pulled him back down – back in. He could not help relishing the way her tight walls felt around him, the moment overtook him and he found himself gently thrusting in and out, chasing a release he had not felt in so long.

A fog clouded his head as he felt the climax building in the pit of his stomach and the nerves tensing up the back of his legs, until – in a moment of clarity – he looked down to see Felicity with an arm draped across her face as though she was hiding – _hiding from him._

When his breath slowed the sound of her tears became like a resonating drum beat through his body.

She couldn’t stop them. The tears were like lava down her sodden cheeks and there wasn’t a thing she could do to stop them.

Oliver stilled instantly.  
“Felicity you’re crying, are you hurting? Did I hurt you _baby_?” Oliver asked, a mix of worry and self loathing caught in his words

The last word, for reasons she didn’t think she could explain with words, felt like a javelin thrown into her heart.  
_Something hurt, everything hurt_ but not the kind of pain she knew he meant.  
“It’s fine, I’m okay” she breathed, trying to still the tremble in her voice as she spoke  
“Felicity” he whispered her name as his palms lifted his body further above her.

Felicity grappled at his waist as her legs clenched around him, desperate to keep his cock buried inside her no matter how the tears scorched her face.

Oliver struggled with her for just a moment before he broke free from her tangled embrace and stumbled off the bed. He heard her soft cry at his departure as he watched her silhouette twist on the bed, her legs curled up to her chest and her body lightly rocking.  
“Please Oliver, come back” her voice was barely above a whimper and it tore through Oliver’s heart like a knife.

He reached the tall lamp in the corner of the room and fumbled for just a few moments before the soft hue of orange ignited through the room, dimming out into blackness in only the far corners.

His eyes landed on her almost immediately. Half her face was shrouded with the pillow she was hugging tightly underneath her, but he didn’t need to study her whole face to see the pain she wore on it.

Her eye was puffy and red, trails of tears had left scattered paths against her colourless cheek. The sheet she had pulled up over her body formed perfectly around her, cocooning her underneath it.

“Baby did I hurt you, I’m so sorry” he cooed, sliding his body onto the bed, his hand hovering around her, afraid perhaps to touch her  
She shook her head slowly against the stark white of the pillow case. Her teeth were gnawing mercilessly on her lowly lip to the point where Oliver stroked the pad of his thumb across it just to pull it free.

“Felicity, please, talk to me” he was begging her with both his eyes and his words, but her gaze stayed fixed and vacant at the wall in front of her.  
“Did you finish?” she asked timidly  
If she were to just look down a few inches to see the erection Oliver was grappling to dismiss she would have already had an answer to that question, but her asking it left Oliver’s mouth slightly parted as he searched for reason.  
“Felicity” he huffed, perhaps more agitated than he had intended, but her question and the blank stare with which he had asked it had thrown him  
“It’s important you finish, did you finish?”  
She finally blinked up, catching his eye for just a second before hers fell back to the wall.

He watched her tug the pillow tighter and holding it even closer to her body.  
“No” he spoke through an exhale – it had not been his intention to answer her question and for reasons he couldn’t pinpoint he felt guilty for answering in as much as he would have felt guilty for not.

She rolled her head towards him as her palm brushed back strands of curled hair from her face.  
“Please, you have to” her blinks were heavy as she looked at him and her voice was cool and distant, like she was relaying the direst of communications

“Tell me what’s wrong?” he pleaded, his lips twisting and contorting with the anguish he felt as he watched this almost-stranger speak in a voice that sounded so much like the woman he loved – and yet, so far from her wit and charm

“This won’t work unless you finish, please, please just finish” she went back to chewing incessantly on her bottom lip, marring over the fresh red scourges from moments before.

He pulled on his pants, fastening them with both speed and accuracy, his eyes never leaving from her.

She was agitated, her eyes were glassed over – tears on the precipice of breaking free from behind them. How could she _look_ so much like _his_ Felicity and yet look so vastly different at the same time?

“What won’t work?” his hand rested on the curve of her waist and she shuddered at it – Felicity, _his Felicity_ , had never once shuddered at his touch; that miniscule moment strangled the air from his lungs.

“This, the baby, Oliver” her eyes finally landed on his, but the spark was still decidedly absent “I need you to finish” she almost barked the order, but Oliver could tell it was all she could do to stop the barrage of tears that threatened to escape

“I don’t understand Felicity” – and he didn’t.  
“I can get pregnant again, I know I can” she curled her body in tighter as one hand escaped and trembled through her hair, grabbing fistfuls at the roots.

It hit Oliver like he had been slapped with a bat, knocking and jarring his senses momentarily, but completely. He wondered if perhaps he had heard her wrong, that perhaps he was missing something or that, perhaps, he was the one that was making no sense.

“Felicity, you can’t”  
He saw her winch and he wanted to embrace her but she pushed him away. It hadn’t been his intention to speak the words so bluntly, but he was only speaking the truth that she was, in that moment, refusing to believe.

“I can, I know I can, why don’t you believe me?” her voice cracked as the final words came out, all hung together with a heavy dousing of desperation

“The Doctors, Felicity..”  
She shook her head, pressing the palm of her hand into her ear, desperate to not hear what he was saying.  
“They could be wrong, there are people that have seen them be wrong”

Oliver’s face was a mangled mess; on the one hand he felt absolute sadness for the desperation caught in her voice and the utter despair trapped behind her blue eyes, but on the other hand he wanted to shake sense into the words she was saying.

He stood and paced around to the foot of the bed, unsure what to do or what to say.

With the bedsheets wrapped tightly around her body she slipped from the bed and padded a hesitant path towards Oliver.

“Please don’t hate me Oliver, I can fix this” she cried, desperate  
“Felicity there is nothing for you to fix” Oliver retorted with a grimace that he couldn’t stifle  
“You promised me the house on the hill and you gave it to me, you promised me our son and we have him, but I can give you the rest Oliver, I can give you your daughter, just please”

His hands folded around her face, his eyes now sodden with tears as he watched her crumble in front of him.

“I know we’re being punished, that I’m being punished, but I can make it right, I can fix it, you have to let me try”  
Her whole body shook before she fell from his grasp and crumpled onto the floor, sobbing unrelentingly Oliver crouched down beside her before lowering his body to his knees, his hands scooping her in close.

“Baby, this isn’t a punishment” he whispered, pressing her head to his chest and allowing her tears to soak into his skin  
“It is, I shouldn’t have come to you that night, I was wrong” she cried, brushing back tears absently with the back of her hand  
“I was supposed to marry Ray, but my heart” she paused as her teeth bit down on the inside of her lip “my body, it wanted you, so I gave in and I came to you”

She fisted her hand into the shirt that was loose around his body, beating it three times against his broad chest. It wasn’t made to hurt him and the force itself barely registered, but the pain that was intrinsically threaded through the motion he felt to his core.

The night he remembered so fondly, so perfectly, Felicity now remembered with tears and a cracking voice.

“That night was the best thing to ever happen to me Felicity, not a single day goes by that I’m not thankful that you ran through the rain to find me, to tell me how stupid I was”  
“We weren’t married Oliver, it was wrong”  
She blinked up at him, the light all but gone from her eyes now, replaced instead with hollow tears.

“Why would you think that?” he pleaded, following her eyes as they tracked over to a stack of books beside the bed.

He stood up, watching as Felicity scooted across the floor, pressing her tiny, trembling frame against the foot of the bed. Whatever was in those books, whatever help she had asked for had turned her into this shell that he didn’t recognise.

“These” he spoke gruffly, lifting one of the books into the air “these told you that”  
She didn’t answer him, but the look on her face was the only confirmation he needed.

He trawled through them, skimming only the surfaces, books written by people who lauded the opinions that only bad things happened to bad people.

 _She had asked for help and this is what they gave her?_  
Every part of his body clenched, the anger boiling up like a volcano inside. He wanted to yell, to plead, to cry – anything to make her see what he was seeing, but he had nothing – just a void, too afraid to push her away.

He collected the books balancing them in his arms as he walked past her. He yanked the bedroom door open, unwittingly making her jump at the noise, but otherwise she didn’t move, didn’t look up – didn’t register.

Oliver strode with a heavy foot to the front door, opened it and tossed the four books onto a chair on the porch. With his lips tensed and his breath ragged he picked up the basket where Robbie, still asleep, peacefully lay. His lips softening, he kissed the small baby’s forehead and gently carried him to his room, laying the basket into the stand.

Words of wisdom rolled through his head, things he wanted to impart to his son, but now was not the time for it.

He closed the door gently before returning to the living space and unceremoniously stopping the music playing through the gramophone. He raked a hand through his locks, finally taking a moment to fill his lungs with air. He felt the strength in his face wavering as his eyes dropped closed like lead curtains.

He took another drawn breath and steadied his resolve. Felicity didn’t need his tears, she needed his strength. He walked back into the room to find her exactly where he had left her with her knees tucked up into her chest and her eyes staring down at the floor.

He bent down, slipping one arm around her back and threading the other through her knees. She didn’t resist, but her eyes stayed low and her lips stayed emotionless. He lifted her slowly into the air, letting her head fall softly against his chest.

Again, there was so much he wanted to say, so much he felt she needed to know, but as he watched her eyes lull closed, he knew all she needed was to rest and all he really wanted to do was hold her until she did.

Gently he lay her on the bed and watched as she curled into herself, her beautiful blonde locks spilling across the pillow.

Oliver pulled the blanket up over her and placed a feathered kiss to her temple before he walked around to the other side of the bed and climbed in beside her. His body shifted on the bed to form around hers as he laid his head on the pillow, letting only three small, whispered words, escape from his lips  
“I love you”

 

* * *

 

The morning found Oliver rise before Felicity, her body and mind finally succumbing to much needed rest. He kissed her with feather-light lips on her temple before he slipped from the bed and dressed silently.

Felicity had quietly told him through the dark veil of the night before a few things she had been told and each word she spoke made Oliver irrevocably furious, although as he gently stroked her hair and coaxed her to sleep, he never let her know that.

It was early, around 8am, but he knew where he would find them, huddled around cups of tea and ideologies that made him angry with focused accuracy.

He wrote a short note he left on the table in case Felicity rose to find him gone and worried for a moment that too was her fault.

He collected the books and threw them into a knapsack which he threaded over his shoulder and under his arm as he whistled for Flash. There was no time, and frankly no inclination, to saddle him for the half hour journey so he mounted the horse and spurred him on with a gentle tap of his heel.

He found himself at the small detached meeting rooms nearby the freshly painted Church. Felicity had come here, to the woman she had known most of her life, to ask for help and when Oliver thought about it, thought about what she was led to conclude, it made his rage burn up his throat.

His feet hit the floor and someone in a passing car waved but he had nothing to offer them in return. The door flung open and he looked from the left to the right before he heard the distinct chatter of the Ladies Group.

Oliver followed the noise till he reached an open door and saw a handful of congregated faces, all of which he knew from sight but the anger behind his eyes made it impossible to focus.

“You can have these back” Oliver announced as he walked into the middle of the room and dumped the books on the table, rattling the finely painted china that was sat there.

Faces of startled older women looked up at him with looks that ranged from confused to disgusted at the interruption of their civil gathering.

“I don’t want any of you to talk to my _wife_ about this again” he raged “You can ask Felicity how Robbie is and tell her she looks pretty if you see her about, but don’t you ever, ever, bring this trash to her again”

“Oliver” Moira clamoured as she and Donna walked into the room  
Oliver looked back only briefly, before his attention returned to the rest of the room.  
“Don’t you ever bring this stuff to her again” he hissed, banging his fist onto the table – about the only thing he could do to stem the rage that he was feeling

“Oliver, that’s enough, what are you talking about?” Moira said, concerned and embarrassed  
“Were you part of this?” Oliver asked, his tone scathing  
“Part of what son?”  
“Telling Felicity that the doctors might be wrong, that if she just prayed enough she would be forgiven and she could have another child, were you a part of it?” he sneered

Donna looked around the room, seeking an answer amongst the faces of people she had considered friends.  
“Who told her that?”  
“There are accounts of it happening, it has happened before, doctors have been wrong?” a voice chipped in from an older woman with a shock of grey hair pulled tightly back to the nape of her neck  
Oliver’s eyes shot darts at the woman, silently scathing her with every ounce of built up emotion her had spent some months burying.

“Why would you let her believe that, why would you tell her that?” his fists clenched around the lip of the table, the veins down his arm pulsing ferociously  
“Oliver, I’m sure they were only trying to help, Felicity has been coming for some company, we’ve all had children...”  
“Help?” he roared, the first time his voice had ever raised to his mother not lost on her “Is it helpful to tell a woman who has a baby that needs her that she’s lucky the lord didn’t see to taking him away too?”  
The table shook as he spoke, his voice booming and his hands clenching so tight around it that a moment longer may have splintered it.

“She asked for help and you offered her empty words and guilt” he growled  
“Miracles happen every day” the same tight-lipped woman scoffed  
“At what cost when it doesn’t? When she goes on believing that she just needs to want it more, just needs to try harder. What comfort will you offer me when you’ve driven her to the point where she doesn’t think she’s worthy of a life?” he yelled, lifting the table an inch before slamming it back down, spilling tea and toppling cups off their saucers.

“Oliver, lower your voice” Moira urged  
“No, you don’t fill someone who it hurting so much with false hope and _bullshit_ ideas”  
The entire room showed some form of horror at the word used in such a place.

“Oliver, mind yourself we’re in a place of god and they don’t mean any harm by it”  
“Tell that to my son, who only knows a mother who cries, tell that to my wife who I rocked to sleep last night because the tears finally overwhelmed her, or tell that to me the man who is desperate to try and hold all of this together. So sorry if I have lost the decorum I ought for a place like this, but you all stay the fuck away from my family”

It was at that moment that Moira and Donna bundled him outside, leaving a heavy silence over the room where that word fell.

“What on earth has gotten into you Oliver” Moira reprimanded  
“I’m not sorry and I wont apologise, do you know what they told her, what they have her believing? She thinks that because I lay with her before” he stopped to consider his words, Donna staring into his chest, but he had already gone too far “before we were wed, that this is a punishment”

His mother’s face barely twitched at the revelation, she just swallowed down the brick formed in the back of her throat and drew a lowly finger across one brow. Donna on the other hand looked like she dropped the air from her lungs.

“They have her thinking that she can fix this” he closed his eyes as they became heavy with tears “they have her believing in something that ain’t going to happen and I’ve got to pick up the broken pieces”

“I’m trying to hold this altogether, I’m trying to stay strong for her, but they’re filling her with hope that’ll only leave her hurting more” Oliver cried as he bent over, the whole world on his shoulders finally becoming too great of a burden to bear

“Felicity’s father was a good man to his daughter. He loved her like the world started with her. He was her rock, her pillar and she could always count on him to fix something that was broken” Donna spoke, her words heavy with lamenting  
“Except where there wasn’t anything to fix” she added with a sigh “There were times when she didn’t need a pillar, she needed a daddy who would let her cry and sometimes even cry with her. It wasn’t his fault that he didn’t know how”

She walked over to Oliver and laid a gentle hand on his shoulder. In all the years he’d known her, she had never spoke this freely to him.  
“But you do Oliver. Don’t be her pillar or her rock, that’s not what she needs from you right now. Show her that you’re hurting to and it’s okay to cry. You can’t fix a heart, but you can heal it, and I mean that for both of you. That’s not weakness, that’s immeasurable strength”

* * *

  
Oliver stopped at the foot of the steps to the porch, stealing a minute to let his eyes walk up to where Felicity sat on the polished wood with a patchwork blanket spread out in front of her where Robbie lay, his hands reaching randomly in the air as Felicity galloped a little wooden horse in front of him, a gift that Oliver had spent hours tirelessly carving while she was pregnant.

She blinked up to register Oliver when he walked the short distance and sat down next to her, his large legs awkwardly folding.

“You think I’m weak don’t you?” Felicity spoke, her breath dry and laboured, so much of her spark missing  
“You’re still the strongest person I know Felicity” Oliver replied  
“I can’t seem to clear away the clouds Oliver, I know I should, but” she paused as she sniffed back the tears “I don’t reckon I know how to fix this”  
She patted a slow hand across her heart, before clutching her fingers inwards to pinch against the bodice of her dusty-pink linen dress

“It’s okay to cry; let me cry with you” he spoke, his words honest and threaded from his heart  
His arms wrapped around her and she mirrored the gesture, her fingers fanning out through the cropped hairline along his neck. She buried her face in his broad shoulder as her other fingers gripped tightly into his waist, pinching the fabric of his cotton shirt taunt.

Felicity felt his body shake as he finally broke, the months of stoically hiding the pain behind quiet words and assuring smiles broke away. She no longer felt alone in the despair and he no longer felt trapped behind a wall of perceived strength.

“We had it all planned out” Felicity whispered into his shoulder  
“Our own little perfect” Oliver replied as his hand stroked through her hair and his tears warmed her cheek  
“We need to find a way to let that go” she breathed as her eyes fell down onto Robbie and his treasured grin “Build another perfect” she added as the fingers splayed through his hair gently slid down his cheek

  
**~Three Months Later~**  
**[March 1926]**

The world seemed a little brighter these days, despite the inclement winter that was only now starting to lift somewhat, the sun had managed to pierce through the clouds that Felicity had once never seen an end to.

Robbie was growing fast, his cherub face and gummy grin was an effervescent spark that warmed even the coldest nights; and his first tooth, sprouted only a week ago, had become a crazy celebration that saw the three of them dance around the cracking fire like they hadn’t a care in the world.

Sometimes the quiet moments caught them, but the time had come to let go of a future they once saw and embrace the beautiful one that they had.

“Are you ready?” Oliver asked as he took the bassinet from Felicity’s hand and watched her pull the front door closed  
She smoothed her hands down her grey woollen suspender skirt, a far cry from her usual attire of chiffon dresses in muted rainbow colours, but Oliver admired her all the same. She tugged the fur trimmed jacket tightly around her waist and sunk the cloche hat onto her head, her hair a tumble of curls underneath it.

She was still a youthful beauty of only 19; Oliver shy of his 23rd birthday, but the trials had matured them, and to look at them now, dressed in such finery, most would have guessed them older than they were.

“Ready” she smiled as she adjusted the white tie he wore, somewhat uncomfortably with the suit he’d graciously dressed in.

It had been a whimsical idea Felicity had dreamed up a few nights ago and even though to anyone else it might have seemed nonsensical, to them the idea seemed perfect.

They would take their newly purchased cream and black Nash Sport and drive down to the coast, about an hour away, where they would, with a ceremony of sorts by their own design, farewell one perfect and build another.  
  
Oliver gently placed the bassinet in the back seat, pressed a kiss on the forehead of his vividly awake son before he checked his bonnet and tucked the blanket warmly around him.

Felicity walked a path of her own through the small patch of wildflowers the grew along the ridge of the hill. She breathed in the sweetly scented notes that filtered through the breeze as she bent down and picked a single flower that had bloomed early despite the chilled temperatures.

It was time for another perfect.

* * *

  
They reached the empty beach around midday. The sun was high but did little to warm the oceanic wind that whipped along the shoreline. A man and his dog jogged past as the three walked through the soft sand, Oliver carrying Robbie in his arms and Felicity with her shoes perched on one hand and the wildflower, now slightly wilted, in the other.

Once they reached the water’s edge Felicity dipped her toes in and shuddered at its frigid temperature, but without retreating she took another two steps, letting the water lap against her ankles.

She turned in the water, her eyes softly closed and her mouth lightly parted. Oliver watched her with a smile glued to his face and he knew, he just knew, that they would be okay.

He watched her whisper something to the flower then let it free on the breeze. Oliver had made his own peace, whispered into her ear a few nights before, this moment was for her.

They watched the flower bob and weave atop the breeze before it dropped into the water and floated around for a few moments before a wave caught it and took it from sight.

“Now what?” Oliver piqued as Robbie cooed in his arms  
“Can we stay a little here? Lie down in the sand with me?” she smiled, her pinked lips pouted  
His answer today, was the same as always.  
“Aye”

She gave little thought to her clothes as she lay down in the dry sand, her body propped up slightly on her elbow.

Oliver sat next to her with his knees bent and Robbie pressed into his chest, a large hand holding his precious child still and covered from the wind.

“We must look like fools” Felicity laughed, hints of her once vivacious character finally starting to return  
“I reckon we probably do” Oliver replied, his blue eyes lush with a kindly smile  
“Will you always look a fool with me Oliver Queen?” she quipped as her hand sought out his.  
“Forever, for always” he remarked, folding his fingers into her.


	6. Adeline

** **

**June 1926**

Felicity’s feet stretched out across the red and white blanket laid out on the vivid green grass growing along the banks of the lake.

Her book lay open beside her and a picnic sat almost completely eaten nearby. The midday sun was high and warm and Felicity tilted her head just enough that the brim of the straw hat shielded her blue eyes from the bright rays as she watched Oliver wading in the shallows of the lake.

Robbie was squealing with delight as Oliver dipped his pudgy toes into the cool water. The sounds of his hysterical laugh echoed through the valley and made Felicity beam with both love and pride.

Oliver had taken so seamlessly taken to fatherhood and as the weeks stretched into months and they neared a year he fluidly grew into the changing role. His family was his world and all these slopes and turns of life so far had seen him keeping his promise to her.

 _“Everything I make with these hands I will give to you. I won’t ever stop trying to make you happy and give you everything you need”_  
He had said as they woke naked in his barn, dusted in the scent of each other, and he asked her not to marry Ray.

Felicity had begged Oliver not to play a cruel joke on her by not meaning the words he was saying, but he had meant them; and looking around the ranch they had built together in long nights and early mornings, Felicity knew Oliver would keep that promise till his last breath on this world was spent.

That night had seen her running through the storm, rain drops bleeding into tears, hoping he loved her back just enough to show her how love should feel.

But Oliver Queen had loved her so much more than that.

Felicity allowed her eyes a few more moments of peace watching her boys play unfettered before she scooped up the letter she had started as she waited, full picnic basket, for Oliver to break for lunch.

It was a letter to Macie and once her eyes skimmed across the half a page she had already written, she picked up her pen and started writing once more as her ears drunk in the cheerful chatter between father and son.

_I still miss the idea of having another baby but I have made my peace with it as best I can. I see in colour now where I once saw only in hazes of grey. Life has its beauty back._

_Please don’t tell Oliver that I ask, but is there any news on Ray? The state’s attorney sent a telegram thanking us for the help but offering very little in news. Oliver's eyes grow deathly still and hauntingly dark if his name is spoken. There is much hate bubbled under the surface, that I worry if Ray was ever to walk free I might lose Oliver to a depth I can’t pull him out of._

_He told me once that he had every intention of pulling the trigger and shooting Ray when the chance was offered and that it had only been my voice that had stilled his hand. I fear that desire has not fully left him._

_But I won’t speak of that blight a moment longer._

_I miss you most terribly. While Starling is, and will always be, my home, a part of me yearns for the comfort of a New Yorker ear and a flask of your most potent liquor._  
  
_Perhaps you could make the trip for Robbie’s birthday in a few months’ time, but I insist you bring Tommy along with you. Oliver won’t admit it but I am certain he misses him._

_Laurel and I have found a quiet respect for the space of the other and she brings Henry around sometimes to get riding lessons from Oliver. He’s quite a natural and a charming little boy. I don’t see him as my half brother so much (through no fault of his own), but there is something in his eyes that reminds me of father and perhaps I find a quiet comfort in that._

_Laurel has stopped selling herself, a requisite Oliver insisted on before gifting her the land now. I believe she works as a boudoir seamstress and supplements the income by grazing cattle on her land from nearby farms._

_Robbie is growing so much, oh Macie, you ought to see him, all cherub cheeks and rolly legs. Momma says he looks just like I did but all I see is Oliver, complete with the hat! He is so beautiful and I don’t know how my heart ever felt complete without him._

_I do hope to see you soon, I miss you terribly._

_Your sister_  
_~Felicity_

Felicity folded the finished letter just as Oliver walked an unbalanced and tottering Robbie towards her, the small boy’s hands gripping tightly to one of Oliver’s fingers on either side.

Her boys, her beautiful boys.

* * *

  
**July 1926**

Robbie's first birthday was drawing near and Felicity was excitedly piecing together every little detail. Today's tasks would see her finalising the cake and buying some decorations to thread through the blossoming orchard trees that grew down the boundary of the front yard and drive.

Macie had sent a telegram saying both her and Tommy would stay a few days with them over Robbie's birthday, and the news had brightened Felicity to the point where Oliver noticed a radiant glow on her skin.

Macie was a breath of fresh air amongst a town of people too afraid to talk much to Felicity, likely fearful they might say something they ought not. She understood, most people knew that she wouldn't carry another child, but rarely anyone spoke about such things.

In Felicity's eyes it was a wasted opportunity that she hoped she could one day change society's perception about. Her hole had been dark and immense, trapped in a feeling of absolute despair that she couldn’t, not through lack of trying, claw her way out of. People didn’t speak about it, firm lips and quiet spaces were all Felicity ever saw in her dark times. Except for one. Oliver.

He hadn’t let her go.  
No matter how much she pleaded, begged, kicked and screamed, Oliver hung onto her as she flailed in that pit, until she was strong enough to find her way out.

And yet, it saddened Felicity that some never had that hand to hold until the sun started to shine again. Some fell without anyone even noticing; and those were the ones Felicity would one day help. When her wounds had turned into scars and the darkness was more of a faded memory she would make it her mission to help others.

It was because of this thought folding through her head that Felicity never noticed Laurel approaching until she was stood beside her, a halved smile washed across her hollowed and sullen face.

“Do you think we could talk?” Laurel asked, her fingers tentatively rolling through Henry's mop of sandy hair.

Robbie’s cooing in the pram pleasingly filled the silence before Felicity, somewhat awkwardly, nodded.

While her and Laurel had carried on civilly, they had maintained a distance that was best for everyone involved.

Laurel gestured as she crossed over Felicity's path and opened the door to the small patisserie they were stood outside.

A few short minutes later found them nursing piping hot coffees while Robbie chewed on the horse figurine Oliver had whittled him some time ago and Henry was busy taking in the sights of the glass cabinet full off sweet pastries.

“I need to apologise for the way I treated you,” Laurel spoke, nestling the mug into the pleated white tablecloth, hemmed in a delicate lace.

“You don’t need to,” Felicity replied, instinctively rocking Robbie's pram as he started to grizzle  
“I do, it was wrong of me to treat you like that,” Laurel started, her voice was unsure and her tone quiet, Felicity decided that she rarely apologised, “but when we were younger I always thought you’d get Oliver’s eye and attention.”  
Laurel smile as she glanced down at Robbie dressed in tan overalls, “guess it turns out I was right.”  
Felicity offered a small smile, unsure how to answer. If she was being honest herself, Felicity's childhood too was tipped with feelings of jealousy and inadequacy.

“I did care for Oliver, but I think I always knew I wasn’t ever going to be the love of his life, now I see that it’s you, it probably always was,” her voice tapered off, sad and lamenting but without a hint of anger at the realisation.

 _Acceptance_ Felicity decided.  
“Thank you,” Felicity mouthed, it felt a little strange to thank her for such a thing, but it felt worse to leave her heartfelt words fall into oblivion.

“I’ve made a lot of mistakes in my life,” Laurel acknowledged with a tinge of sadness, “but I have Henry and I love him.”  
Felicity followed her eyes as they walked over to watch Henry in his wide-eyed wonderment.  
“He’s a beautiful little boy,” Felicity replied as Henry skipped back to his mother.

Laurel took a few coins from her purse and folded them into Henry's opened palm, “A soda and one cake,” she smiled as she ruffled a hand through his hair

Once Henry had darted off towards the cabinet once more Laurel took a long drink before she made eye contact with Felicity once more.

“Oliver has always treated him well and after you found out who his daddy was,” Laurel paused as Felicity shifted uncomfortably, it was still a tender truth, “I appreciate what you’ve done.”  
Felicity sighed softly, it was a circumstance she hadn’t asked for and despite the recoil from some of the people in Starling, it had absolutely been the right thing to do.

“I’m just sorry my father couldn’t see sense to do it earlier,” Felicity returned with a graciously soft smile.  
“I wanted more from him than he could give me,” Laurel atoned, probably more to herself than for Felicity  
“Even so.”  
“You’ve welcomed Henry into your life and I’m so thankful for that,” Laurel confided  
“He’ll always have a place in our lives, you both will,” Felicity assured as she picked up a fussing Robbie and cradled him against her breast to calm him momentarily.

“Felicity, I’m dying,” Laurel confessed before she swiped a fresh tear from her cheek  
“What?”  
Felicity felt the air sucked from her lungs, Laurel was the same age as Oliver and Tommy and only a few years older than herself. She was a young mother so death shouldn’t be anywhere near her door.

Laurel wrapped her fingers around the tawny crockery mug, willing herself not to cry, not in front of Henry who was perched on a bench a few feet away, sipping his soda obliviously.

“There isn’t anything the doctors can do for me now, so it’s just waiting out my time.”  
Her shoulders were slumped forward, the stance of someone who had no more hope.

“That can’t be right…there must be something,” Felicity stammered as Robbie started to cry in her arms  
Laure shook her head, “there isn’t, believe me I’ve looked.”

Felicity eased her knuckle into Robbie's mouth which he happily sucked on, soothed for at least a few moments more.  
“Have you told Oliver? Henry?” Felicity asked, although given Oliver hadn’t told her, she was certain she knew the answer  
“No, just my parents and now you know and I’d like to keep it that way for now. I will tell Henry soon and I’ve made arrangements that he’ll stay with my folks.”  
Her words seemed so matter-of-fact, something which Felicity found both heart-breaking and unfathomable.

“Why are you telling me this?”  
The question had been sitting on the edge of her tongue.  
“Because, my parents will care for him in so many ways,” she breathed, her eyes wet with held back tears, “but they’re older now and he’s a young boy, I just, I hoped maybe you could,” she paused to consider the depth of her request, “...treat him like your own child now and again, so he can feel loved by so many people, if it isn’t asking too much.”

The last few words hit Felicity hard as she held Robbie just a little tighter. Having to ask such a request must hurt, and it was written in the deep lines across Laurel’s pale and drawn face.

“It’s not,” Felicity assured kindly, “he’ll always have a place at our table, I know Oliver would agree.”  
“He’s always loved Oliver,” she whispered, watching Henry as she spoke  
“Oliver should know, you should tell him.”  
“I’m not sure how to,” Laurel replied after a heavy exhale  
“We can tell him together if it helps?”

* * *

  
To say the atmosphere in the small porch was frosty was an understatement. Oliver was pacing the wooden planks, surreptitiously stopping to check a few nails were flush with the wood where he walked. Other than careless mutterings under his breath, Oliver wasn’t for speaking and Felicity knew all too well what that meant.

Robbie was napping on a blanket a stone’s throw away in the cooling evening air, the sun about thirty minutes away from disappearing over the horizon. Henry was not far, playing on a knotted cable rope that Oliver had hung from a tree. His cheers of childhood wonderment proving he was completely, and thankfully, oblivious to the stinging silence between the three grown-ups on the porch.

Laurel was sitting with her hand in her palm, her shoulders slumped and her eyes listless and drawn.

Felicity, for her part, stood in the space opened up between them, her lips staying closed but her eyes watching Oliver as he paced.

“So what is it you’ve tried so far?” Oliver finally spoke, his question like a gun blast through the lull.  
Laurel opened her mouth to speak, her head still buried her palm, but before she could Oliver started up again.  
“Why didn’t you tell me sooner, I could have helped,” he snapped, his fingers scraping through his hair like a forest fire  
“Are you a doctor now Oliver?” Laurel asked sarcastically as her head slowly rose, the resignation of her truth scarred in the dark circles around her eyes.

“This ain’t the time for sarcasm Laurel, there is a little boy out there that needs you,” Oliver’s hands rose, cupping the sides of his head as he paced more determinatively in tighter circles  
“Don’t you think I know that?” Laurel sneered, finding a burst as she stood to her feet, “I’ve done what I can, everyone has done what they can…”

“Well you ain’t done enough!”  
Felicity cringed as the words fell with maddening sadness from Oliver’s lips. He never meant any harm by it, she knew he was more upset then angry and his harsh words were merely an extension of that.

He wasn’t perfect; but she loved him all the more for it.

“And what would you have me do?” Laurel’s voice raised, her pitch tight and strangled  
“Oliver, maybe you should sit down,” Felicity soothed, as her eyes walked across the yard to where the boys were, knowing it wouldn’t take much more to draw little Henry’s attention their way

“How can she just accept it?” Oliver snapped, his hands flailing around with his heart clearly on his sleeve.  
Despite their differences, he had always tried to look out for Laurel as a friend.

“I’ve had time to make my peace with it, I suggest you do the same,” Laurel wiped away bitter tears as she gathered her wits and walked towards Felicity.

“Thank you for trying, but I best get Henry home,” she said quietly, a certain peace falling between them in spite of a history of turmoil

Felicity watched wordlessly as Laurel walked over to where Henry was still playing, a definite trepidation in the way she carried herself.

“Oliver Jonas Queen,” Felicity snipped as she crossed her arms and met his eyes with widened ones of her own, “what in the hell was that?”

She huffed when all he could offer was a shrug before she pulled him towards the corner of the porch, as far out of earshot as they could be.

“She’s just given…”  
Felicity silenced him mid-sentence with a soft peck against his lips, she had always found that to be the most time effective way to steal his words.  
“She doesn’t need your condemnation Oliver,” Felicity sighed, satisfied that he didn’t need any further berating aside from her crossed arms, “she needs to know that her son can have you in his life.”

“But…,” he scrubbed fingers across his jaw and swayed his head from side to side.  
“There isn’t any but to it Oliver, I’m sure she’s done whatever she can now she is asking you for this one thing, stop being such a bull-headed fool and you give it to her.”

Her tone was soft and her words calm, but there was a storm brewing just below the surface of her eyes; and Oliver could see it.

But Felicity was right. It wasn’t for him to say that Laurel hadn’t done enough; and it was even worse to think she would have just given it. He didn’t always agree with her decisions and he rarely every understood her choices.

She was stubborn and foolish and arrogant and rash. Everything that made it pointedly obvious they would never have the connection that he and Felicity had; but, even in her mistakes, he didn’t see her as weak.

Oliver took a deep breath and eased a much calmer hand through his hair before he leaned down and placed a tender kiss against Felicity’s smooth, wind-blushed cheek.  
“You’re about as perfect as they come, you know that right?” he whispered as he slowly pulled away  
“It doesn’t hurt none to hear it more,” Felicity winked as her hand brushed down the rolling muscles of his arm.

Oliver could have stayed there for hours longer just staring into the depths of blue that Felicity’s eyes possessed, silently reassuring himself that she was all his and he was all hers. So it was with a quiet reservation that he stepped away, took the three steps down the porch in one go and sauntered up to Laurel as her and Henry headed towards her car.

He ran a ruffled sweep of his hand across Henry’s head before Laurel bent down and told Henry to wait in the car.  
“I don’t want to hear anymore about why I’m not doing enough Oliver,” she whispered snidely as she crossed her arms, walling herself off  
“I know,” Oliver lamented, “Felicity told me I was being bull-headed and foolish.”

He sighed softly as he offered her a quietly apologetic smile.  
“And?” Laurel quipped  
“She was right.”

A small smile crept across Laurel’s dried lips, her illness showing in the sullen colour of her skin.  
“I think she probably often is.”  
Oliver nodded; _she was._  
“Henry will always have a place in our family, whatever happens, you should know that,” he remarked, briefly touching her shoulder in a gesture of solidarity

“If he grows up to be half the man you are I’ll be up in heaven smiling,” she mused, her voice on the edge of cracking.  
“You’re a good man Oliver,” she acknowledged before she tipped her head towards Felicity who had walked over to where Robbie lay, “and you did good with her.”

Oliver looked back, watching as Felicity stooped to collect a rousing Robbie into her arms, “I know,” he softly agreed.

* * *

  
**August 1926**

Macie embraced Felicity for the third time since arriving as Oliver and Tommy took Robbie outside for a manly jaunt around the fields.  
“How have you grown up so damn much,” Macie squealed as she finally relinquished the hug, “your breasts are amazing by the way, so big and squishy.”  
She winked as she cupped a highly inappropriate hand to Felicity's breast before they both laughed.

“It's the weaning, it has them all swollen,” Felicity explained as they both sat in opposite chairs at the round dining table  
“I bet someone is enjoying the view,” Macie smirked as her eyes nodded at the ample cleavage pulling at the seams of Felicity’s lavender smock  
Felicity choked out a laugh, “the view, maybe. The effects? Probably not.”

Macie raised a brow that silently urged Felicity to spill the story; and given Felicity was eager for the company and conversation she took a long inhale and started a story.

“Oliver would kill me for telling you it, but a few nights ago we were lying in bed, as you do, fooling around a little, as you should, when he starts putting his mouth to my chest Robbie starts bleating from the room over like an alarm clock.”

Macie sat higher in her chair her eyes dancing with enjoyment as her scarlet lips twisted into a scandalous smile.

“But I tell Oliver to keep going because it has been some time, you know?” Felicity continued, rolling her finger slowly around the rim of the mug full of gin sour.  
“Like a week?” Macie gaped, the tone in her voice like something from a horror film  
“Like a month, maybe more,” Felicity peeped, her eyes darting upwards to catch the look of an un-expelled gasp painted across Macie’s face as she placed a hand to her chest and leaned back in her chair.

“So anyway, he’s well, doing what he does,” Felicity continued as a smiled washed against her lips  
“And he’s good at it right?”  
“Macie!” Felicity gasped before her gasped turned into a shrieked laugh  
“I mean, he ought to be, I’m just saying, he ain’t gotten worse or anything has he? Out of practice and all?”  
“No,” Felicity laughed before she stilled her lips into a smiled pout, “Oliver is _very_ good.”  
Macie nodded, satisfied with that answer.

“Anyway, he’s doing just fine, better than fine actually, until, well I start leaking,” she sighed as she looked down at her chest, “one side got him square in the eye, oh Macie it was terribly funny.”  
Felicity's exclamation was followed by burying her head in her hands as she tried to quieten the laugh. Macie chorused a mirrored laugh, with one exception – she wasn’t trying to hide it at all.

“What happened then?” Macie begged to know, her eyes lit up with humoured wonderment.  
“After he wiped his face, I got up to feed Robbie a bottle,” she sighed listlessly as the laughing died down, “but by the time I got back he was fast asleep.”

“So no....” Macie asked, no need to finish her question as the hitched brow said exactly what she meant.  
Felicity shook her head softly, “we're just so tired all the time.”  
“Well honey, that just ain’t right.”

Felicity smiled sweetly, perhaps it wasn’t the _ideal_ , but remembering where this year had taken them, Felicity was proud of how far they had come, together – unbelievably stronger.

Macie noticed the glassy film of Felicity’s eyes before she reached across the table and took Felicity's slender hands into her own.

“I’m so sorry about what happened,” she spoke genuinely, the two of the knowing she spoke about the trauma that followed Robbie's birth and still sometimes cast a shadow of grey over Felicity even now.

She squeezed her hands tightly, “that I wasn’t around for you.”  
Felicity smiled kindly, her eyes softening as she squeezed Macie’s hands back.  
“Your letters helped me so much, and I had Oliver,” his named dripped from her silvery lips like a whisper.

Together the faced the best of life and the worst. Always had, always would.  
There was never a doubt in her mind.

“I don’t think fate is done with you yet,” Macie declared with a charmed lopsided smile, “you’ll get some good back, I can feel it.”

* * *

  
**15 August 1926**

It was a stunning day as the front yard had been transformed into something ripped from the pages of a handful of children's novels. A small petting zoo of farm animals and pets in one space, a cotton candy machine and a few simple carnival games lined the driveway and Oliver was helping some of the older children ride Flash if they asked.

Paper streamers in almost every colour strung through the trees waved happily in the soft breezes. There were tables set like a mad hatter's tea party and filled with delicious treats and the sounds of children echoed through the vast valley.

Felicity had gone overboard, she knew it and Oliver knew it too, but neither sad a thing because Felicity felt an rainbow of joy surrounding her as she looked around and Oliver saw the most stunning sparkle in her eyes, and _that_ was worth everything.

Robbie was toddling with uncertain but unaided steps, barefoot on the grass at Felicity's feet, occasionally reaching his small arms out to check his mother was still within reach as she greeted new arrivals.

Oliver lifted Henry up onto Flash and settled the small boy into the saddle as John slapped a hello on Oliver's shoulder.

“It's quite a set up you have here,” John smiled looking around at the colourful space  
Oliver chuckled as he nodded at the inference, _there was a lot going on._  
“How is she?” John asked as he tipped his head back to look at Felicity, knowing momentous days brought their own trials.

The two men talked frequently as they worked and Oliver had found a certain level of comfort being able to have someone to talk to, despite his first instinct always being to hold it in.

“She's doing good,” Oliver replied as he watched her bend down and help Robbie to his feet once more, “How is Lyla?”  
Oliver and Felicity both knew John and Lyla were expecting their first child and would welcome a baby into the world in a few short months. When the news first came out Felicity had taken it hard, she had lamented how selfish she had felt for wishing it was her instead, but, as if sensing his mother's despair, Robbie had taken that moment to utter his first, very clear word, “Mama” and Felicity’s silently bitter tears had spun into tears of joy.

“She's well but craving some crazy things,” John smiled before he sighed sadly, “she was worried about coming and putting a damper on the day.”

Oliver slapped John's broad shoulder in a display of kind solidarity.  
“Felicity and I are okay, and we're both truly happy for you,” Oliver assured with a smile as he nodded over to where Felicity was embracing Lyla.

“Do you know what you’re having?” Felicity asked as she broke away from the lingered embrace.  
It was true that she felt a small sense of sadness seeing the blossoming stomach of pregnancy, but, when she held Robbie just a little tighter and he ran his chubby fingers through her the length of her hair, Felicity knew she was blessed to have him in her life and in the end, that’s what mattered.

“They say a little girl, something about the way she’s sitting,” Lyla answered, hesitantly, “Felicity I’m so...”  
“Don’t say sorry Lyla,” Felicity warned with a thoughtfully kind smile, “you have no reason to be. I’m so happy for you.”

And she was, she genuinely was.

* * *

  
The time for opening presents came and went in a flurry of torn paper and ribbons which Robbie took far more enjoyment from than what was actually in the gifts themselves.

“There is one more,” Felicity exclaimed excitedly as, by design, Tommy walked around from the back of the house trailing Robbie's present behind him.

“Uh Felicity,” Oliver smiled as he leaned over to her ear, “that’s a goat.”  
“I know,” Felicity laughed as she held a giggling Robbie a little closer to the animal, “isn't he cute?”  
Oliver’s mouth opened as his eyes twitched through a million different questions, unsure where to start.  
“Where did you get a goat?”  
“Macie and I were in town and someone was just giving him away.”

Felicity crouched down as she stood Robbie on the ground and scratched the tuft of hair under the goat’s chin.  
“You like him Robbie? We’ll call him Billy,” she mused as a happy Robbie babbled excited words in a language of his own, dispersed with “Ma” and “Da”

“Who was giving away a goat?” Oliver asked, still perplexed about the whole situation  
“Does it matter Oliver?” Felicity replied as she looked up at him, the sheer delight of her acquisition written in her dancing blue irises  
“What kind of a name is Billy?”  
“I think it suits him,” she pouted before she turned her attention back to Billy who was busy butting her arm gently as Robbie squealed in delight, “don’t you think so Billy.”  
She nuzzled her face into his cheek before Oliver stooped, crouching on his wide legs, and placed a gently hand on Felicity’s shoulder.

“I can’t believe you bought a goat,” he smiled  
“Acquired,” she corrected, her voice muffled against Billy’s coat  
“I love you,” Oliver sighed with a soft shake of his head as his arm snaked around Felicity’s waist at the same time as the other arm pulled Robbie into a tight embrace

“I love you too,” Felicity said as she cupped his cheek, her eyes now searching his  
Oliver’s leaned in to kiss her but his advancement was thwarted when a very belligerent Billy pushed his head between them.  
“I think Billy is a little jealous,” she smiled as she lifted her head just enough to peek over the top  
Oliver stared down at the goat with a narrowing of his eyes and a tensed jaw but Billy didn’t budge, in fact, to Oliver, it looked a little like Billy was matching Oliver’s expression with an equally terse one.

“What’s next?” Oliver laughed, deciding to break the strange eye contact he was having with the large brown eyes of a goat, “a donkey called Susan?”  
Felicity shook her head in feigned disgust, “Susan isn’t a very good name Oliver,” she stated sternly before just the corner of her mouth floated up into a smile.

 

* * *

 

**Few Nights Later**

The petting zoo was long gone and the food all eaten. The tables and games were packed away and returned, as all but a few paper streamers remained to tell the story of Robbie's first birthday party.

Macie and Tommy had left for Hollywood the day before as Macie auditioned for a couple of movies and Tommy, almost dutifully, followed along behind. When Felicity and Oliver waved them off at the train station Oliver even joked that Tommy and Macie looked more married than they did.

Another day was setting as Oliver trudged up the hill and was quickly set upon by a fiercely bleating Billy. He shooed him away with a stamp of his foot but it did little to discourage the angry-eyed animal; and even though Oliver made it to the front steps without being nipped, Billy looked as though he was out to settle a blood debt sooner or later.

“That goat really doesn’t like me,” Oliver huffed as he stepped through the front door of the house and plucked the weathered hat from his head.  
“Well you should start by calling him his proper name,” Felicity laughed as Oliver walked deeper into the room and wrapped his arms around her waist, swaying her softly as she dished up the slow cooked dinner Oliver had started that morning

“Smells good,” he purred in her ear, the sound of it like a billowed breath of air on ember coals  
“It ought to,” she sighed contentedly, “you made it.”  
“You helped.”  
Felicity placed the ladle back into the pot and turned slowly in his arms.  
“You’re lying, but thank you all the same,” she smiled before pecking a quick kiss to the tip of his nose

“Robbie said more words today,” she gushed, wetting her lip with her tongue as her eyes danced delightfully  
Oliver tipped his head back to look at Robbie who was busy crashing a toy truck into the wall as he made an array of chugging noises.  
“He did?”  
Felicity nodded slowly with a lazy hum.  
“He said horse,” she squeaked excitedly as she took in the sudden widening of Oliver’s eyes  
“You’re lying!” he exclaimed with a boisterous grin  
“I am not, he did,” Felicity defended with a laugh, “we were watching you riding a few of the new ones down in the valley from the porch and he said ‘horse’.”  
She nodded her head resolutely as Oliver continued to beam a smile across his face.

“Did you say horse little man?” Oliver grinned as he sat down on the floor, his long legs awkwardly crossing over each other  
“Well, it was more like a ‘Ho-ssiissss’,” Felicity mimicked, “but we were watching you, so it was _supposed_ to be horse.”

Robbie looked up at Oliver before he climbed up onto his lap and wrapped his small arms around his neck, chorusing the words “da-da-dad” like the best song in the world into Oliver’s ear.

“Say horse,” Oliver encouraged as Robbie, wide-eyed and smiling, nodded his head like a bouncing ball  
“Ho-ssis,” Robbie cooed  
“Say horse.”  
“Hoorrs-sis” Robbie laughed proudly as Oliver squeezed him into an embrace

* * *

  
Sunset found them sitting on the porch swing like they always did, Felicity and Oliver quietly watching Robbie natter away to himself nearby. The sky was on fire with streams of red, orange a pink, vibrant and crisp like the strokes of an oil painting.

Felicity’s head lay in Oliver’s lap as his hand stroked through her golden hair and his feet slowly rocked the swing.

They stayed like that, without the need for words, until the night turned a thick shade of deep-blue and stars slowly began to appear behind its net.

Robbie had quietened and had curled up on the swing beside Felicity, his tiny hand mapping out lines on Oliver’s pants with silent reverence.

“I’m going to put Robbie to bed,” Felicity whispered softly as she smoothed fingertips through his sandy blonde hair  
“And then you’ll come back?” Oliver asked, his voice like a husky whisper  
Felicity nodded as she rose slowly from his lap and bundled a listless Robbie into her arms.

With an appealing hum of a melodic tune and the sway of her walk, Robbie was already asleep when she lay him into his bed and gently kissed his forehead.

He smelled like soap and she lingered there long enough to let the scent envelope her senses. With each day that drew to a close she knew he would be a little bigger tomorrow and while sometimes the idea that she would never see a repeat of days like these with another child, she had made her peace with it – _they_ had – together.

Felicity returned to the porch to find Oliver slouched a little in the chair and his eyes hung closed. Silently she snuck her hands around her neck and kissed a trail across the back of his shoulders. He hadn’t bathed since arriving home and she could taste the saltiness of lingered sweat dried into his skin.

The taste of it reminded her of sex.  
The way sweat would bead in the dips of his muscles when she rode on top of him, pooling until she bent down and drew her tongue across them, drinking it up like nectar. He would sigh and pant as he drove himself deeper, spurred on by the way her eyes danced across his body in search of more tiny pools.

Or when the glistening sweat of exertion filled his brow in one of the many other positions they had once tried, her own body slick with heat as they came together in fiery throws of loud passion.

It had been some time since they had given themselves into desperate and animalistic sex, it wasn’t that they had stopped entirely, but their moments had become more about quiet whispers and soft pants of air in a dimly lit (or darkened) room, for fear anything louder would wake Robbie.

Oliver was slower now too, his touch was softer, like it had been the first night they slept together. She could see it sometimes in his eyes that he held back and it seemed he was always on the precipice of pulling away at a moment’s notice if she asked him to stop.

It wasn’t that it wasn’t good. It was, it was beautiful and soft and kind and filled with so much emotion and love. He would tremble and kiss her neck as he came inside her and she would feel it as she rode through her own release, with just a hint of sadness knowing it wouldn’t result in a baby like it once had.

Then he would caresses her face, whisper words of love that made her heart swell before he, always, without fail, asked her if she was okay.

Felicity knew what he meant and she didn’t resent his words – how could she? They were filled with so much love and kindness. But, when they curled up in each other’s arms and before they drifted off to sleep, Felicity wished for a return to the wild ways they had once enjoyed sex.

Sweaty.  
Needy.  
Loud.

Oliver offered a throaty hum as Felicity continued to kiss the back of his neck and her hands slid under his shirt, tracking over his firm and broad chest.

When she floated her nails back up as she walked around the front of him Oliver’s eyes slowly opened and his lips folded into a plump and charming smiled which Felicity couldn’t help but nip at.

He hummed again, this time from deeper within his chest and she could hear his breath hitching as she sat onto his lap and tucked her legs in close to his.

Her hips stroked against the forming erection in his pants as his lips parted to expel low and growled breaths. She kissed his bottom lip, hard and deep, swiping her tongue across the seam of it just as his eyes opened, half-mast, to watch her.

Her heat raged between her legs and she continued rolling her body up and down his legs, plucking his eyes open further as his hands grasped her waist tightly. She moaned at the contact, enjoying the tightness of his grip before he loosened it.

“No,” she argued with a smoky breath as she pressed his hands tighter into her waist, “I want you to take me like you used to.”  
Oliver’s eyes lit up in the silky night.

“Do you remember the pier Oliver,” she spoke with a honeyed tongue as she kissed through his stubble  
Oliver nodded, his words strangled into stilted and sharp breaths.  
“I want you to fuck me like that.”

Felicity watched as Oliver’s eyes shot up to hers and his back stiffened instantly.  
“Will you?” she asked, drawing out each syllable like a silvery stroke of air against his cheek  
“Here?” he asked, his voice barely recognisable as his throat constricted the same time as his cock throbbed  
“Right here Oliver,” Felicity coerced with a feathered blink as her fingers worked down the button fly of his pants

  
Oliver kissed her, fast and needy, and Felicity lapped every second of it up, keening into him as his hands ravaged her body, fumbling across her back in search of the zipper for her dress,

So engrossed he was in the kiss and the task of undressing her, anticipating the way her nipples would bud the instant the night air hit them, Oliver didn’t notice the first few times there was a tug on the cuff of his pants.

In fact it took a few more times before he even registered the movement. Finally he looked down to find Billy, the goat, staring up at him as he gnawed Oliver’s trousers.  
“Shit,” Oliver cursed as he his hands fell away from Felicity and he shook his foot violently.

Felicity looked down and laughed as Billy refused to drop his catch. Slipping from Oliver’s lap she took Billy by the collar and pulled him away, despite his bleated screams of protest.

“I told you he hates me,” Oliver laughed as he adjusted his pants, his erection still prominent but fading from the interruption  
“He doesn’t,” Felicity smirked, although she too was beginning to believe he actually did.

Every night Oliver came back Billy would start a ruckus of noise that sounded like a child screaming. If Oliver went near him he would pull against his lead with his head lowered to butt forward and if Oliver happened to touch Felicity when he was near, Billy would find a way free from his lead and bite, or attempt to bite, whatever part of Oliver was nearest.

John had once joked that it seemed like Billy was jealous of Oliver and, while it was a joke at first, it was beginning to ring true.

“Now where were we?” Felicity laughed and she embraced Oliver from behind once she had returned from putting Billy around the back of the house.

Oliver hoisted her onto his back as she wrapped her legs around his waist and peppered his neck with flirty kisses.  
“Do you think maybe we could take this inside?” Oliver rasped, his body aching to be naked  
“As long as you do what I wanted Oli-ver,” she sung out his name in his ear and her lips folded around the lobe and she grinded her body against his back, “don’t still yourself,” she added with a sensual sigh

Oliver didn’t answer, he didn’t need to. The quick, wide strides he took to get inside with Felicity on his back, was all the agreement she needed.

He flung her onto the bed as a string of tantalisingly soft chuckles bled from her lips and her skirt ended up around her waist. She didn’t adjust it as Oliver’s eyes soaked up the sight and her foot traversed his leg before circling the outline of his cock.

He tore down his pants without any fanfare and Felicity stared at the way his cock flung out from behind the sheath of his cotton boxers. It wasn’t like she hadn’t seen it before, but teamed with the devilish glint in his eyes and the raving pulse between her legs, something about it seemed so exciting and new.

She sat up abruptly onto her knees and sunk her hands around it as Oliver kicked his pants across the floor. He gasped and the firmness of her grip as she pumped it three times in quick and heavy succession until the tip of it glistened in readiness.

As he pulled off his shirt his eyes shifted to her clothing and scrutinized just how much she was wearing, knowing he wanted every scrap of it shed from her body.

Her dress was floral and sweet and it reminded him of the charming little dresses she would wear when Oliver was afraid to fall in love with her. Her hair was loose and a tumble of innocent curls, but her lips were wet with a desire that Oliver knew she only ever had for him – the idea of that making his cock twitch between her palms.

He tried once more to release the zipper of her dress but a dainty line of buttons up the top found his large hands struggling.  
“Just rip it,” Felicity winked, seeing the thread of frustration in his eyes as he leaned over her, desperate to figure this dress out

It didn’t take much, barely a tug on either side for the buttons to pop off and ricochet around the room. Oliver offered only a smile by way of an apology.

He pulled the dress from her body like and threw it to the corner of the room without a second thought. His eyes snapped to her breasts, watching the way her nipples tightened and budded like he knew they would.

And that was when the screaming started.  
Right outside the window.

Oliver’s eyes tracked over to it as the sound of Billy’s bleating penetrated his ears.  
“Just ignore it,” Felicity soothed as her hands wrapped back around his cock and she summoned him closer, skimming his tip between her breasts

Oliver nodded as his hands fisted in her hair.  
Felicity parted her lips and pressed and open kiss to the glistening tip of his cock.

Oliver’s hands tightened in her hair and she hummed him deeper into her mouth in reply. The muscles across the back of his legs tightened and he forced his eyes to stay open, drinking in the sight of her perfect, plump lips formed around his cock with her angelic eyes peering up at him.

And Billy just got louder.  
Oliver tensed as he tried to block it out, his eyes were so engrossed with the way her back arched and her chin tipped back to take him in a little deeper. It had been a while since his cock had felt the warm wetness of her mouth and the heavenly strokes from her tongue. After the tiring year they had faced he had never wanted to ask, never wanted to push – but _fuck_ had he ever missed it.

But he couldn’t escape the noise.  
It was so loud it made the window panes tremble.

Felicity drew back, dropping his stiff shaft from her lips.  
“Ignore it,” she pleaded, although she could see that despite his best efforts he couldn’t.

“I’ll go move him, tie him up further from the house,” Oliver muttered as his hands dropped from her hair  
“Don’t be long.”

She watched with smiling eyes as Oliver, completely naked, ran out of the room and, she assumed, into the night.

She laughed as she listened to him trying to coax and pull Billy away from the house, but she could barely see much more than outlines through the window into the night.

It was a few minutes later when a, still naked but now shivering Oliver stumbled back into the bedroom. His erection was depleted, but it sparked to life when his eyes slalomed down her body.

“Do you want to take these off?” she smiled as she ran a hand under her thin, ruffled knickers in a softly angelic peach hue  
He nodded as he hopped from one foot to the other, trying get some warmth back to his extremities.

Oliver touched a hand to the flimsy fabric and Felicity jolted in response, the startling cold of his fingertips like ice against her skin  
“Shit, sorry,” he mumbled as he feverishly rubbed his hands together, “maybe you should.”

Felicity smiled as she nodded and slipped her hands further into her panties, watching as Oliver stared, captivated.  
“Do you want me to touch myself, like you showed me?” she asked, her words whispered like a prayer, “like you like?” she added with a drawn exhale

Oliver nodded as he licked back and forth across his lower lip.

And that’s when the crying started.  
Felicity’s hand sprung from below her panties and flew across her chest as she sat up immediately.

It was Robbie, loud and pitched and they both stood there silently praying that it would stop just as suddenly as it started.

But it didn’t.  
Felicity moved to get off the bed but Oliver trapped her with his body and placed a gentle kiss on the top of her head.

“I’ll take this one,” he smiled as he collected his pants from the floor.  
She smiled thankfully before she scooted towards the head of the bed and slipped under the covers.  
“I’ll wait,” she promised

Oliver threaded on his pants and replaced his once-discarded shirt before he blew her a kiss and sauntered out of the room.

Slowly he moved around the kitchen warming a bottle of milk as he gently soothed and jostled a sleepy but weary Robbie in his arms. He seemed so much bigger now, and he was, but he was still just a baby looking to be taught everything he needed to know.

It took much longer than expected to settle Robbie back to sleep and the whole house was quiet when Oliver finally walked back into the bedroom. He expected to hear the quiet words of Felicity asking him something but his ears were met with nothing; and as he pushed the door gently closed and turned around, he knew why.

Felicity was fast asleep.  
He smiled as he watched her breathing, her legs tucked up into her chest and her body awkwardly half-sitting, as though she had tried her best to wait up for him, but the need for rest had simply overwhelmed her.

He thought about what she had said that night, about stilling himself, and she had been right. He was afraid she might break his arms like she had all those months ago, sobbing that everything that had happened had been her fault. It still hurt him to think that she had thought of their times together before they were married as something deserving of punishment.

Oliver knew that she spoke out of a deep sadness and as the sun had begun to come back into her life the sparkle in her eyes had also started to return.

And yet, he still held back, fearful that a fragility still remained inside her and that making love like they once had – hot and fast and desperate – might cause her turmoil and pain.

But tonight, she had asked him, practically begged him to lay rougher hands on her, to need her and to crave her like he once had and, as he remembered the way his hands fisted in her hair, he had absolutely been willing to.

Just like he would the next time her eyes glinted and darkened like they had.  
But for now he peeled off all but his briefs and slipped into the bed beside her. There was a light kiss to her shoulder and a warmed whisper of endearment before the need for sleep overtook him also.

 

* * *

 

**The Next Night**

Oliver rode up the hill, letting Flash set the pace of a canter to stretch his legs from a day of trotting. The house seemed quiet as Oliver dismounted and let Flash wander the front yard, picking fallen apples off the ground.

The front door was closed and there wasn’t the usual smells of food emanating from inside. When he walked closer to the front door he found the note taped to it.

_Oliver,_

_I sold Billy and Robbie is with my mother._

_Come around back._

_~Felicity_

He smiled as he plucked the note off the door and folded it into his pocket.

The smell hit him before Oliver had turned the corner. It was subtle but he knew it well, vanilla and apple blossom, a scent he had come to be insatiably attracted to. It was the one that was always lingered on Felicity’s smooth, porcelain skin and the same one that he could taste when his lips happened upon kissing her.

It was his nose that walked him the rest of the way, following the scent as it drew him closer and became richer in the air.

And then he saw her.

Her hair was bundled atop her head in a way that looked both effortless and stunning. Tiny wisps of it floated around her face, the tips darkened where they had dipped into the water of the old tub that once sat in the clearing of her father’s cattle ranch.

And the water…  
The water was creamy coloured, but thinning just enough to see the outline of her body underneath it. It sat high against her chest, swallowing her breasts and leaving only her shoulders completely visible. It must have been warm as there was a slight flush in the apples of her cheeks.

Candles lay around the outside, although the sun had not yet fallen below the horizon. A platter of fruit sat on a nearby table as well as a flask of what Oliver suspect was bootlegged whiskey.

“Hi,” she whispered, her voice wrapping into the aroma of the air  
“Hi,” Oliver smiled in return, his tone equally as soft

“Did you want to come in, watch the sunset from here?” she asked as she slid forward in the old tub, the water sloshing up the sides and showing just a glimpse of her perfectly rounded breasts.  
“I don’t have eyes for anything else but you tonight,” Oliver rasped as he took a few more steps forward, his legs wavering underneath him as the blood rushed to his emerging erection.

Felicity walked her eyes seductively up his body, her black lashes splayed out just below her brow before one side raised ever-so-slightly.

“Do you remember this tub Oliver?” she smiled before she sunk her teeth into her bottom lip and rolled it through  
Oliver nodded, he had been meaning to set it up for some time and he didn’t know when or how Felicity had managed it, but he honestly didn’t care to ask about it right now.  
“Do you remember the day you saw me in it, in the clearing?”

Oliver nodded, slower this time – there wasn’t a chance he would have forgotten that.

“The sun was just beginning to set,” Felicity begun her voice like soft velvet, “the smell of pine trees thick in the air.”  
Oliver took another step forward so he could lazily drag his fingertips through the water.  
“I remember seeing you reading a book, your hair was out, spilling over the back of the tub,” Oliver offered with a low and throaty voice.

“You were spying on me weren’t you Oliver?” she smiled coyly as she brushed her toes against his submerged fingertips  
“You wanted me to find you, didn’t you?”  
“Yes,” she offered truthfully as she lifted a little out of the water, the tops of her breasts now floating above it  
“You called me Miss because you thought me spoiled rotten didn’t you Oliver?”  
“I called you Miss because I was worried about staring at you,” he laughed, his broad shoulders jostling  
“Did you want to stare at me?” she asked, although looking at the desire in his eyes she already knew the answer  
“From the moment you came back into my life all I’ve ever wanted to do was be in yours,” he spoke sweetly, a quiet quiver in his tone

“If you had the chance again and we were back in that clearing and there was nothing between us, no years of falling apart from each other, I hadn’t gone to New York and you didn’t care about what my daddy might have thought,” Felicity rose a little more out of the water, her rose-hued nipples budding as they met the air, “what would you have done?”

Oliver sighed wistfully, it had been a question he had thought about a few times sitting alone in his barn thinking of Felicity in her room, but he had always come to the same conclusion.  
“I would have done the same as I did back then and not changed a thing.”

Felicity pouted as she looked up at him, she had wanted more and he understood why.  
“See, if I had done something different, even the smallest thing, it might have changed everything. It might have changed the way I kissed you that first time, so soft and innocent, it might have changed the first time we laid down together, that look in your eyes when I…,” he paused, stumbling words a little, “…when we gave ourselves over to each other, you underneath me with your eyes a little glazed but so full of trust.”

Oliver swept a hand across her cheek, remembering the way her hands trembled down his arms and how perfect it felt inside her.

“If going back and changing one thing might make everything after that change, then I wouldn’t risk it, because what we have now,” he leaned in, kissing her cheek, “baby, it’s perfect.”

“I know you said you wanted it hard and fast,” he quipped, stroking his damp fingers down her neck, “but I was wondering if I might spend my time with you.”

Felicity blinked expressive blue eyes at him as her naked lips turned up into a subtle smile.  
“Start here,” he stated as he dove his hand into the water and circled her toes, “work my way up your legs,” he continued, his voice like a reverberating hum as his fingers mapped the course

“Kiss your breasts, slowly, dancing my tongue across each coiled nipple,” he smiled as he feathered a finger across one, “until you beg me to stop.”  
“I won’t,” she interrupted  
“You might,” he challenged with a smirk

“Let’s find out,” Felicity simpered as she rose completely from the water.

Trails of water caressed her curves and made Oliver’s eyes darken with jealously over the path they got to travel.

With his breath caught in his chest and his lips hungry with need, he lifted her from the tub and nestled her warm, wet body against him. The water seeped through his clothes as she hung on and her smooth skin melted into his calloused hands as his fingers dug into her thighs.

“Let’s,” he whispered the word against her misted forehead.

 

The bed buckled underneath her as Oliver laid Felicity, naked and coated in a thin film of water.  
“I’m wet Oliver,” Felicity chuckled as her body writhed on the puffy ivory linen.  
Oliver smiled before she blushed, the pink of it fanning like sunset down her chest.

“You know what I mean,” she whispered with a smile that tipped only the edge of her mouth.  
“I don’t care,” he whispered, a gravelled hunger in his voice  
Felicity swallowed slowly as Oliver’s fingers ran like feathers down her legs.

He watched as she adjusted herself on the bed, raising her body up on her elbows. The veil of water was like satin under his fingers, still dirtied from the day’s work. There was something so erotic about touching her smooth skin when his own was cracked and soiled.

Her lips parted and she exhaled the softest of whimpers when his fingers slid down between her toes. Oliver could watch her all day, drinking in the sight of her hazed eyes and swollen lips. Memorizing each sweeping curve her body took. His eyes knew the pertness of her breasts, and the small thatch of hair that sat between her legs. They were the parts of her only he had even seen, only he had ever touched; the fact of which made his cock strain against his pants, tenting the seam and sending painfully pleasured spikes up his body.

He stripped every piece of clothing he had on before he tapped her knee, spreading her legs open enough for him to crouch between them. With a gentle hand he lifted her foot, skimming her toes against the ridges of his chest before he smoothed petal-soft kisses along the top of it. Felicity giggled, the softest, sweetest honeyed giggle Oliver had heard in so long. Though she still looked young, her heart had aged and to hear the chortle of a whimsical giggle was the most charming sound.

Oliver watched her hand fist the linen in clumps as he sucked her toes one by one, rolling his tongue over each one.

“Oliver stop,” she laughed as her body rocked and writhed  
“Are you begging me to stop already?” he smiled before his tongue snaked around her ankle  
Felicity snapped her mouth shut, stapling her lower lip with her teeth as she thrashed her head in a ‘no’.

Fingers trickled soft lines along the underside her knee as she help back her pleas to stop. Tears of laughter glistened at the corner of her eyes as Oliver gently kissed a hopped path up her calf, dragging his unshaven jaw in delicious circles as he went.

“Do you want me to stop?” Oliver kissed the question into the side of her lower thigh  
Felicity shook her head with a held back smile and blown eyes.

Oliver watched Felicity's lower lip speckle with deep red-wine spots where her teeth had gnawed across it. His thumb smoothed across her lip, dragging it from the snare and soothing it with a tender stroke.

“Felicity we're alone,” he smiled, his voice guttural and heavy, “scream if you want to.”

Her lower lip sprung free from under his thumb as she pushed her lips together in a soft pout before blowing them apart with a silvery gasp and the tiny drops of his name  
“Oli-oli-ver,” she purred as his fingers seductively wove up the inside of her thighs.

She could feel every inch of it, together with the thick tense of his legs under hers and the brush of his hardened cock as his fingers drew delectably close to her sweltering heat before stilling their ascent.

Felicity wrapped her legs around his waist, twisting herself at the ankles in case he decided to play some tortuous trick and pull away just when her body screamed for his touch. She heard him swallow heavily and it was only then she realised her eyes had screwed shut.

They flittered open and were blessed with the sight of crystal clear blue eyes smiling at her. Just the tip of his lip curved into an uneven smile as the fingers of one hand dropped away from her thigh and traced over her whitened knuckles, still fisted into the billowing linen. Wordlessly and in a process that seemed to take hours, Oliver peeled back her fingers and entwined them with his own.

He dragged her fingers across her navel, over her mound and down between her folds, stroking her fingers salaciously against her tempered flesh. He didn’t need to ask, she knew what he wanted, but he asked all the same.  
“Felicity, will you touch yourself for me?” he breathed, his voice faint and airy  
She nodded, struggling to find any words that would make sense, and in one fluid moment Oliver raised her up his body so her bottom rested on his muscular thighs and her legs now coiled around his neck.

His engorged member sat thick between her cheeks in a new and pleasant sensation as her fingers traced the outline of her aroused clit. Oliver kissed her thigh, thrumming his tongue against her silken skin when she touched herself, pinching her clit between a thumb and forefinger.

He nibbled at her flesh when her body arched into the sweeping strokes of her fingers between her wet folds.

His name fell hard and fast from her lips before her voice turned to soft whimpers. More bites, a little harder now, down her leg elicited gasps of pleasure from Felicity.

Oliver loved watching her, her fingers taking the paths he had taught her, sweeping between folds and tweaking at her clit, but it didn’t take long until his own fingers became jealous.

With his kisses edging ever closer to her sex his fingers swarmed her hand and brushed through her folds, coming up coated in her juices. Breathlessly her hand fell away and Oliver’s fingers conquered every inch of her heat. The pad of his thumb stroked heavy circles across her clit as his ring finger sunk into her entrance.

Felicity’s pants became mixed with pleasured sighs, begging his lips closer with just the drifting chorus of his name. He could smell her, her arousal beating from her lower lips like a tantalising dance inside his nostrils. His cock stiffened and throbbed between her cheeks, as he bent down further and pressed the softest of kisses that felt like fire to her mound.

“Please,” she begged, the word dripping from her lips in desperation.  
But the truth was Oliver wanted it just as much, if not more, and he needed only one short request before his tongue delved between her folds. He circled and danced between her lips, taking in everything she gave him.

Felicity didn’t know where his fingers began and his tongue ended as he moved them seamlessly together, in and out, around and over. She panted his name like hot, molten words from her parched lips.

She was desperately close.  
He sucked her nub and it felt like and explosion between her legs.  
He skated his fingers against hers walls and it felt like a beautiful torture.

And then he said it.  
Her name, soft as a mid-summer breeze through the tops of the pine trees.  
So soft that Felicity thought she had imagined it.

And then he said it again.  
“Felicity.”  
Her core tightened and she forgot how to breathe.

Her release came suddenly like a crack of thunder.  
It coated his fingers and lips as he took her through her climax with gentle licks and soft thrusts.

With his lips still slick with her release, Oliver raised his head and kissed the soft skin of her chest, working his way up between her breasts.

Her head was buried in the blankets and her eyes rolled backwards as his fingers twisted inside her, easing her through her the last tranches of her orgasm.

Her body was sobbing before he kissed her neck and stilled it.  
“I’m not done with you yet” he whispered in her ear, his breath misting against the sweat beaded behind it.

Felicity opened her mouth to reply, but only quiet whimpers of agreement came out, coupled with the slow, quivered nod of her head.

Oliver moved his mouth to her breasts and his fingers continued to stroke her trembling walls.

With slow, sweeping swerves, the flat of his tongue skimmed across her nipple. It was so sensitive that each stroke felt like a thousand had been done before.

Oliver took his time with it, his movements seductively slow as her body keened and whimpered underneath him.  
  
“Do you remember in the waterfall Felicity?” he asked as his lips kissed across to her chest to where his hand gently kneaded her breast  
“Yes,” she simpered, her voice cracking

“Do you remember how loud you were?”  
_Yes_.  
She opened her mouth to speak but as his teeth nipped her budded nipple and his fingers swarmed around her quivering walls, all that came from her lips was a barely audible whimper.

Oliver smiled up her chest as he adjusted her body underneath her to perch his cock just at her entrance.  
“Will you scream out for me Felicity?”  
She locked her hands around his neck and wrapped her fingers through the shorts of his hair as she reached up and kissed his lips, tasting the remnants of her release still there.

That was her answer.

Oliver entered her slowly, her walls still tight from her previous orgasm. She gripped her nails into the base of his head, her eyes wide and her lips delicately parted.

She mouthed his name as he fell in deeper until her breath became heavy and her cries were throaty. His name caressed the tip of her tongue before she spoke, urging him deeper and begging him faster.

And he did.

His cock submerged inside her, beating against her tight walls as she cried out his name and he panted hers. Faster his cocked pummelled her, needing and wanton in his thrusts.

Her knees dug into his sides as her body contorted to kiss him again. Her teeth scathed his lips and her tongue swept across it seconds later.

The bed underneath them creaked and rocked, slamming the headboard into the lacquered wooden wall.

Oliver tore her hands from his neck as he shifted his body to be above her, delving his cock deeper inside her.

She screamed his name and he felt his legs tighten across the back.

Felicity cupped his face between her hands, their eyes falling into each other as they both neared the precipice of their release.

“I love you,” she breathed, her voice threaded with emotion  
“You,” she whispered as his thrusts deepened and her walls constricted around him once more, “only you Oliver Queen.”

It took only those few words to push him over the edge and he came inside her only moments before her second release warmed his trembling cock.

Their eyes met, locked in silence but speaking in volumes between them.  
_I love you._  
_I’ve always loved you._  
_I’ll love you forever._

Oliver kissed her lips, long and lingered and when she kissed him back a single tear fell from the corner of her eye.

They were them again.

 

* * *

 

  
**February 1927**

Laurel died during a still and almost moonless night just before midnight. There wasn’t much more to say on the matter and despite their loss her parents didn’t wallow in despair for the sake of Henry.

Her funeral was small and her eulogy short. She died as she lived, watched over by only a few.

The weather at the cemetery was dreary and overcast. Her father spoke of the daughter he loved as her mother stood silently brushing back tears beside him.

There was little said about her choices in life, after all that choice had cut her life short. There was much left unsaid for this wasn’t the time for it.

Henry was solemn and quiet through it all. His upper lip quivered as her casket was lowered into the ground before Oliver wordlessly took his small hand and squeezed it tightly.

“Do you think it will be okay if I visited you?” the five year old whispered as hiss small hand trembled in Oliver's  
“Any time you want Henry,” Oliver squeezed his hand tightly before he took a knee to look the boy in the eye, “you come as often as you want.”

And, he did.

* * *

  
**July 1928**

  
July found Oliver away on business as the ranch grew exponentially and investors vied for the opportunity to be involved. Felicity thrived amongst it, her business savvy turning Oliver’s gift into something that would eventually outshine even her father’s accomplishments.

_Life was good._

She found comfort in reading new commentary on the ideas of depression. The world was still young to the idea but the more she read the more she knew that she wanted nothing more than to see it proved so that women were no longer labelled as hysterical or taught that they should struggle alone.

She took each day as it came and as the sun shone its morning rays on her this crisp Monday morning, it felt like a good day. Oliver would return from Texas in two days and Robbie was spending the cherished day with her mother as Felicity set about putting together his third birthday party.

As her feet took her down yet another cobbled that morning she heard a sound that plucked at her ears and made her feet walk a different path towards the opens doors of a small, once vacant, warehouse.

The sounds became increasing familiar as Felicity stepped closer until she found herself standing in the doorway of what looked like a thrown together orphanage.

“What is this?” Felicity asked as her eyes roamed around the dusty warehouse, two walls lined with cots not unlike the one Oliver had once slept on  
“Our train broke down,” an older sister of the cloak answered as she stood dressed in a typical black and white smock replied, her face a frazzle of emotion, “might take a few days to fix, so we're making do.”

Their ‘making do' looked like the bare bones of a refugee camp. Those old enough to be playing and running around like Robbie would have been sat in groups, huddled and listless, some in hushed sobs while others were deathly silent, too worn from fate’s trials to do much more than stare into an abyss.

Those too young to be resolved to this life cried, clutching worn toys and thread-bare blankets.

“You were travelling together?” Felicity asked, although she had heard whispers of such a thing she had never seen it with her own eyes.  
  
Orphanages from the larger Cities who were bursting at the seams would place a few dozen children on a train and escort them across towns, stopping occasionally to offer the children up for adoption in smaller rural towns.

Some called it progressive.  
Other’s called it cruel, likening it to a cattle drive.  
Many from both camps referred to it as the Orphan Train.

“Where are they all from?” Felicity asked quietly, not waiting for an answer to her earlier question  
“Cities mostly.”  
There was little affection or sadness in her voice, but Felicity assumed perhaps she had just become accustomed to the sight to the point where she had grown to see it as simply normal.  
“Where are their parents?”  
Felicity’s heart was swollen and sore, some of these children were no older than Robbie and those that were looked as thought they carried the weight of the world on their tiny shoulders.

“Some couldn’t afford to keep them, others were young mothers without men,” the sister explained as she walked around the room, Felicity followed behind, regardless of not being extended an invitation, “some just didn’t want the burden.”  
The sister sighed, the first emotion Felicity had seen, as she stopped in front of a table where a deep pot wafted a smell into the air.

“Where are they going?” Felicity asked as another sister approached with small tower of mismatched bowls.  
“Rural families, hopefully the older ones will get jobs in sugar fields down south.”  
She spoke of it as if it were a good thing, but Felicity only saw one thing, “they’re children,” she whispered with a quaking voice.  
They didn’t need work, they needed parents.

A ladle dropped into the large pot and stirred through the barely coloured water.  
“Is this all there is?” Felicity asked as her eyes fell to the contents of the pot, sparsely dotted potatoes and carrots in a thin, murky broth.  
“They’ll have a little more for supper, but what we have needs to last.”

Felicity backed away from the table, “I’ll be back in ten minutes, please wait until I return.”

Felicity had only been gone a few moments longer then the ten she promised before she returned, her arms balancing four bags of food which were stuffed full of loaves of bread, cinnamon and raisin rolls, milk and apples. She had cleared out most of the bread from the baker and every last cinnamon and raison roll were in those bags. Her cheeks were flushed and her hair was no longer pinned quite as neatly as it had been.

“This might fill their tummies up a little more,” Felicity spoke as she blew hair from her face  
Two nuns took the bags from her arms with wide and thankful eyes, it was more than enough for the thirty odd children.

“Perhaps I could stay a while,” Felicity inquired although she didn’t wait for answer.  
Instead her eyes were drawn to a young worker, not in garb as the others, trying unsuccessfully to get a small, crying baby to take a bottle.

“Is she okay?” Felicity worried as the baby's knuckles were whitened and her face a blotted red  
“I haven’t been able to get her to eat all day,” the woman replied, the anxiety written across her expression.  
“May I try?” Felicity asked as she held open her hands.

Once in her arms, Felicity lifted the baby and held her tightly against her chest with her chin rested against the curve of Felicity’s shoulder. The baby pulled her legs upward as she fisted tiny hands into the loose strands of Felicity's hair. It reminded Felicity of how Robbie would behave when his tiny tummy was a knot of trapped wind.

Felicity held her tighter and stroked a firm hand down her back for a minute or two as she gently hummed one of Robbie's favourite jazz songs into her tiny ear until the gas passed and the baby settled into the warmth of Felicity chest, her wails turning to small whimpers.

Taking the bottle Felicity turned the baby, keeping her upright before she placed it at her lips. Greedily the baby girl suckled on the teat, spilling milk down the corners of her tiny, pouted lips.

“You’re very good with babies, do you have any?” the same woman asked  
“A little boy, he's three next month,” Felicity answered, though her eyes stayed on the stunning blue eyes of the tiny bub.  
She was petite, barely beyond two months, dressed in a smock much too large for her. She was capped in soft strokes of dark blonde hair.  
“He’s lucky to have you.”

Felicity smiled in thanks before she instinctively pressed a kiss to the little girl’s forehead as her milky complexion returned.  
“What’s her name?”  
“Most orphan babies don’t have names, just named after the streets they were left at, Sycamore in this case.”

Felicity felt a heavy lump in her throat, that was no name to be whispered into an ear to calm a cry. That was no name to sing into their favourite song to make them smile, that was name for the prettiest little baby girl that Felicity had ever seen.

She bit back tears, this wasn’t her child to love, not her child to name. Full and content the blue eyes slowly closed, three fingers from her hand still coiled into Felicity's hair. Felicity lay her in the small basinet and watched as her pinked lips squished together into a pouted frown that was as endearing as any frown could be.

“May I come back tomorrow? I have some of my son’s old clothes and toys that you can have,” Felicity offered, her voice almost pleading to be allowed  
“We would welcome you, thank you.”

* * *

  
Felicity did go back, each day for three days she went back with Robbie staying close to her until her warmed to the children, happily playing amongst them as though they were the best of friends.

She brought whatever she thought might be of use to them and had wrangled in help from the old biddies with nothing better to do with their time. They sewed blankets and patched clothes and each meal was enough to full tummies and delight eyes.

And, when the meals were served and the kids were settled, Felicity spent her time with baby Sycamore, singing endearing songs and gently rocking her in her arms.

But today was _different_.

Yesterday the nuns had gladly exclaimed that they would be leaving mid-morning next day. When Felicity had met Oliver at the train station her heart was heavy and Oliver could tell right away. As she picked at her favourite meal in a nearby restaurant Oliver finally asked her why she was not herself.

So Felicity told him.  
She told him about stumbling upon them in morning and returning each day. She told him how she had spent much of their savings on food and a few simple items. She told him how Robbie had seamlessly played with them despite their lives being so vastly different.

And then she told him about Sycamore, her tiny little doll with blue saucer eyes and the pinkest lips she had ever seen.

Felicity told Oliver everything, and Oliver just listened.

Wordlessly and with nothing more than a gentle smile on his face, he listened until she had run out of words, finishing with the news that they would be leaving tomorrow.

Felicity had expected maybe a chuckle or a soft touch of his hand to hers. Perhaps a part of her thought he ought to be a little annoyed she took money without discussing it with him, but no, she got none of that.

When he was sure she was finished Oliver took her hand and kissed it most unexpectedly and then he asked if it would be okay for him to go with her tomorrow.

So here she was, with Robbie and Oliver beside her. The sight of so many children without parents shocked Oliver but he wore it much more subtly than she had. He watched over her as she quietly tended to the baby she had grown deeply fond of, although knowing today would be the last of it tinged the moment with sadness.

Felicity had dressed her that morning in a little yellow frock that she had bought over three years ago when, pregnant, Felicity had fallen in love with it. She had kept it all these years, even though seeing it buried in amongst the winter blankets had often made her sad, she had never been able to part with it, until now.

The suitcases were packed and the cots were being carried back to the church’s storage where they had come from. It was time for them to leave.

Felicity placed baby Sycamore into waiting arms. She brushed back tears as tiny hands reached back for her. It became too much and Felicity apologised profusely before she ran from the warehouse.

Oliver said nothing as he wrapped his strong arms around her quivering body the instant the sunlight hit them. She sobbed into his chest as his hands caressed her back.  
“I’m sorry,” she cried as she tried to still her emotions, “can we go please?”

“I’m going to fetch Robbie, okay?”  
Felicity nodded, standing back on her own strength as she folded her arms around her waist, brushing back her spent tears.

Oliver walked back into the warehouse and looked around for Robbie who was busy giving a boy only a little younger a toy truck that Robbie would have once protected fiercely. However instead of calling him over, Oliver stopped the older matron and asked her what was to him the simplest of all questions.

A few minutes later he emerged from the makeshift orphanage, trailing along behind a hot-footed Robbie who immediately embraced Felicity’s legs.

“I’m so sorry Oliver, to get upset like that,” she shook her head softly, “it was foolish.”  
“You have the biggest heart I know, there ain’t a foolish thing about it,” Oliver comforted as his finger raised her chin and he kissed a tear from her cheek.

“I have a son, I should be thankful for that,” she tried to encourage herself  
“And he has the best mother,” Oliver smiled, “but wanting for more doesn’t mean you love him any less.”

Oliver took a neatly folded sheet of paper from his pocket and handed it to her. The words at the top of the page told her all she needed to know. It was an adoption form.

“It’s as easy as that Felicity,” he whispered kindly as he stroked her tear sodden cheek, “I’m ready if you are.”  
Oliver pointed to his signature already penned, just waiting for hers to be added.

It took twenty three minutes.  
Twenty three minutes to make their family of three grow by one more.

_Adeline Grace Queen._

She was beautiful and she was theirs.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this is it. Never say never but for now I believe I have closed the book on their stories.
> 
> I have loved this universe with so much of my heart, thank you for taking this journey with me.
> 
> Xox

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, would love to hear your thoughts in whichever form they take.
> 
> My slight OCD also requires I reply to every comment, so there is that....
> 
> Twitter: @someonesaidcake


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